


Coming up for Air

by brokendrums



Series: even you can't stop the storm [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:04:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1490989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokendrums/pseuds/brokendrums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall joins a fishing boat at the end of winter and finds something he's not completely prepared for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming up for Air

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to [ Nicki ](http://themanyfaceswewear.tumblr.com) for the amazing help! 
> 
> Forgive me for the possible over indulgence in Irish folklore.
> 
> Title from Basic Instinct - The Acid

It’s windy, with a chill in the air that slices through Niall’s coat. He stamps his feet in his heavy boots, curls his fingers into the damp cloth of his sides and ducks his head against the gust of wind, cold and blowing. It’s harder now that he’s stopped walking - before he could grit his teeth and push his head through the gale because he had somewhere to go but now he’s just standing at the edge of the pier in the dim, grey morning trying not to blow over. 

The boat is small and rocks unsteadily against the edge of the pier. There’s no light on that Niall can see but it’s after half past so someone must be there. 

He curls his hands into fists again, swallows around his dry tongue and hunches his shoulders against the wind. 

It had been a favour - Greg’s girlfriend’s brother’s mate knew a guy who was leaving the crew and had put forward his name to Simon. Simon had taken one look at him, frowned over his pint and told him to come out to the boat for half six _sharp_ to meet the lads and see how he’ll get on. 

At the time, Niall had jumped at the chance for work, too tired of getting under his Da’s feet in the house and being rejected from yet another job application. He’d seen Simon about before and been down to the docks a few times over his childhood but had surprisingly little to do with the small fishing community all the years he’s lived here. 

There’d always been something creepy about the docks; the way the sun would disappear below the horizon and how it always seemed cold, even on the brightest days. People in school were always daring each other to go down to the shore and climb the old dredges of wood that had washed up, the older kids sometimes got drunk in the wreckages but Niall had preferred to stick to the other side of town, playing football instead. He had laughed at the rumours of people going missing from the end of the pier, each one too preposterous to be more than talk. But now, standing outside the tiny rocking boat in the blustering wind, he’s beginning to get nervous, belly betraying him and twisting into knots with each knock of the stern against the wooden pier.

Niall stamps his foot again, knees going rigid in the cold, and checks his phone. It’s nearly a quarter to. He could turn away now, say there had been a mix up and trudge the whole way back across town to his house. He’d be back in bed before the sun had even risen and wouldn’t have to go anywhere near a boat ever again. 

He doesn’t get that chance though, because when he turns awkwardly on his frozen feet he bumps into someone, pushing up against a broad chest and getting a face full of wet coat as he knocks against his shoulder. 

“Sorry,” Niall mutters and takes a step back. He squints through the dim and sees who he’s walked into, belly flaring up and heart sinking simultaneously at the sight of him. 

“Hi,” the boy says brightly and Niall gives him a nervous smile. He’s got a bag slung over his shoulder and there’s someone else behind him, standing with a hip half cocked out and a smirk on his face. He’s bundled up as well, scarf knotted around his neck and his forehead half hidden under a woollen hat. 

“Morning,” he chimes in when he catches Niall’s glance and Niall smiles tightly at him too. His plan to get back to his bed is slipping away quickly. 

“You must be Niall?” the first one asks and Niall feels himself nod, fingers curling tighter into his coat. The boy rocks on his heels a bit, eyebrows dipping. “Aren’t you freezing? Go on ahead up into the boat.” 

Niall turns, eyes going wide as he takes in the tall side of the boat. Even though it’s small, tts size is still daunting to Niall; he’s not sure if he would be able to do it without falling over. 

“I’m Liam, by the way,” the boy says and throws his head back in the direction of the other one. “That’s Harry.” 

Niall nods again and Liam narrows his eyes. 

“Lovely to meet you,” Niall offers and his voice is nearly lost in the wind. 

“Ah,” Harry pipes up. He’s wearing a thick jumper and it looks warm and cozy but Niall doesn’t know how he’s not freezing without a coat on. “He speaks!” 

Niall flushes; he can feel it against the cold air as it spreads across his cheeks and it only makes him blush more. 

“I’m gonna kill Zayn,” Liam mutters and steps forward. He lifts a hand to hold onto the rail and hauls himself up. He makes it look easy, a foot firmly in the right place and then swinging easily up onto the deck. Harry grins at him, taking in Niall’s apprehensive face. 

“He’ll be sleeping still, the lazy sod.” Liam’s still griping and it’s distorted by the howl of the wind. “Just because they stay on the boat doesn’t mean they should get extra sleep. _And_ Louis will probably try and bugger off for a nap later.”

“Liam’s a bit of a grump in the morning,” Harry tells Niall and he’s closer now, a few inches taller to block the wind whipping around his ears. There’s heat there, just in the way he cuts off the cold. Niall wants to tip into his chest and feel how soft his jumper is with his face. Harry smiles at him and Niall feels himself want to smile back, like they’re friends even though they’ve just met. 

“I’m not,” Liam calls down and Harry’s face brightens with a laugh, loud in the bleak morning silence. 

“Zayn’s the real grump,” Harry agrees with a grin, eyes lingering where Liam’s been leaning over the railing. His neck is long and pale, half buried under a roll of red wool. There’s a red mark just under his jaw and Niall doesn’t get a closer look because Harry tips his head towards the boat, grin lingering on his lips. “Come on, up you get.”

Niall swallows and there’s a bit of thumping about from up on the deck before Liam appears, face smoothing out into a grin. 

“I’ll help you up, don’t worry,” he calls down. 

Niall reaches up, the bar wet from the morning damp and freezing against his palm. He wraps his fingers around it and he knows he doesn’t have enough strength for this, that he won’t be able to do half the things that they need to work on a fishing boat. Liam gives him an encouraging grin and holds out a hand. 

“I fall off it all the time,” Harry tells him, coming up close until he’s looming over his back. “You get used to it, y’know, get a technique. Louis sort of goes over backwards. He says he was the best at high jump at school.” 

Liam snorts and shakes his head from above him and Niall swallows again, tightens his fingers around the bar and hoists himself up. Liam leans down to grab his other hand and it’s warm as his fingers curl around him. There’re hands on his waist now and Niall squeaks when he feels one of them move towards his arse, a palm pushing him up into Liam’s chest. 

Harry laughs and Niall can feel his cheeks growing hot again as he clambers over the wet wood with Liam’s help. 

“There we go,” Liam says and claps his hands on Niall’s shoulders. He gives him a sort of once over as Harry climbs up, limbs splaying awkwardly out but managing to get up and over in one piece. Niall feels odd being under Liam’s scrutiny and he watches nervously as Liam trails his eyes up his body. 

“Let’s wake them up,” Harry says and Liam jerks out of his gaze. Harry beams at him and he looks gleeful as Liam moves towards the door. He flips on a light and it’s bright compared to the dim of the morning as Niall steps inside. It’s obviously the navigation room, sophisticated machines and computers whizzing. They look out of place considering the boat looks like it’s about to fall to pieces. There’s a jumper hanging over the back of a chair and a tattered paperback lying on one of the keyboards, spine cracked open. The clock on the wall has stopped at twenty five past four and blue tacked below it are five photos, dog-eared and smudged. Niall gets a quick glance at them on the way through and spies Harry, Christmas crown sitting lopsided on his head, arms tightly wrapped around another boy while they kiss. 

Harry ducks into a tiny corridor and it’s here that Niall notices the lilt of the boat, the sway it has while they’re still docked on the water. It makes his stomach roll and he sets out his hands, trailing his fingertips along the wall so he doesn’t lose his balance. 

“You get used to it,” Liam comments from behind him and Niall wants to snatch his hands back, like he’s been caught. He has the feeling that Liam’s watching for all his responses, waiting to see when he’ll fail. He keeps them there though, trained to the wall, as they make their way down the corridor. 

There’s a light on at the end of it, a slice of yellow visible through the door, slightly ajar. 

“Aw.” Harry’s shoulders slump as he pushes his way through it. It’s a kitchen, it’s a mess and ten years too old. There’s lino on the floor, curling a bit around the cupboards and a suspicious looking stain near the sink, but it looks lived in, more clothes set on the wooden surround of the booth they use for eating and a stack of dvds on the bench.

There’s a boy standing by the kettle, hands wrapped around a mug of tea, and he’s only half awake, eyes squinting as he turns to them. 

“Mornin’” he says quietly and his voice is scratchy. His eyes flit to Niall, appraising him quietly before flicking back to Harry. 

“Thought I’d be able to wake you up,” Harry says and Niall can see the way he’s pouting at him, bottom lip pushed out. Harry walks up to him, standing as close as he can get without actually touching him. “Prank you properly while I’ve got the chance.” 

“Can’t prank the master, Harry, sorry to disappoint,” the boy says but he smiles all the same, leaning into Harry’s body. Harry’s face lights up and he lifts a hand to his hip, clutching him there. They don’t say anything else but Niall can work out by the jut of the guy’s nose that he’s the boy from the photo in the first room. He looks older, hair shorter and ruffled from sleep, but his smile is soft when he turns away from Harry. 

“I’m Louis.” He introduces himself, voice still sleep rough. “D’you want tea?” 

“You could’ve let him in,” Liam chastises quietly and he’s opening up his bag, pulling out the contents onto the table in the corner. “Standing out there all forlornly in the wind.” 

Niall wants to argue that _forlorn_ is maybe an exaggeration but Louis waves his hand in the air, shrugging before throwing a half apologetic glance at Niall as he moves across the small kitchen. “What you bring?” 

Liam snatches his hand away but Louis is able to sidle in under his arm to poke into the bag. 

“Sleeping beauty still asleep?” Harry asks instead and flicks on the kettle again. It rumbles in the small room, already half boiled. It drowns out whatever Harry says next but he doesn’t repeat it. 

“Of course he is,” Louis replies loudly and pokes about Liam’s bag. “Did you bring anything for brekkie, Liam?” 

Liam whacks at Louis’ hand again. “No. If you’d come home last night you would’ve had a lovely breakfast with Haz and me.”

Louis makes a noise. “That’s not fair. I wasn’t going to leave Zayn on his own.” 

Liam rolls his eyes and edges to the side, letting Louis peek into the bag again. 

“He’s perfectly able to get off the boat,” Liam mutters. “If you would stop indulging him, then he might actually come with us.” 

“We had bacon, Lou,” Harry taunts from the other side of the kitchen. “Bacon and toast and brown sauce. Proper bacon, _bacon_.”

“You know he can’t get off the boat,” Louis snaps at Liam quickly before turning to glare at Harry. “And did you happen to bring any of this bacon with you?” 

Harry’s pulling mugs down from the cupboard, opening a latch that must keep the doors closed. Niall doesn’t want to know how many plates they break during rough weather. It makes his stomach flip over again, the fact that they must go through weather that necessitates the use of latches on their cupboards. Harry ignores Louis’ question, settling on smiling at him smugly across the room.

“I had _three_ bacon butties, Louis,” he says as he plucks a few teabags out of a box before chucking it back into the cupboard. “Maple smoked bacon, think it was from the butchers. Proper stuff, y’know.”

“Ah,” Louis moans and slumps across the bench. He still has a hand in the bag on the table but he’s frowning over at Harry. “Haz, not maple.”

“Maple,” Liam affirms and pushes his hand out of the bag to keep on unloading. Louis groans again and tugs at his sleeve, trying to make him drop whatever he’s holding inside the bag.

“Sugar?” Harry asks, peering across the kitchen at Niall. It’s hard to follow the sudden switches in conversation but Niall manages to shake his head. Louis makes a happy sound from the table. 

“Good man. These two ruin their tea with too much sugar.” Louis takes a gulp of his own tea, tired of messing with Liam now that he’s stopped protesting. “I like you already. You would have brought me bacon, wouldn‘t you?” 

He grins at him and Niall feels something swoop in his stomach, relief edging in and allowing him to relax his shoulders. There’s a spark in Louis’ eye, something sharp that would normally make Niall wary but instead it makes something inside him flutter, like it could be fun to find out what he’s smiling at. 

Harry edges the mug on the end of the bench closer to him and Niall wraps his hand around it, feeling out the warmth against his still cold fingers. Liam and Louis are murmuring about something they’ve found in the bag and Harry’s tinkering with the sugar bowl, stirring some into a third cup. 

“Gonna wake up Zayn,” Harry tells him as if Niall already knows who Zayn is. Niall nods and edges closer to the table. Louis lifts his head, eyes narrowing accusingly. 

“Don’t be too long and no hanky panky!” he calls. Harry snorts and shakes his head, hands full of tea as he edges out the door. 

“Seriously. Harry!” Liam calls after him too. He shares a grin with Louis though and Niall watches on, trying to figure out what’s going on. “If I find you back in bed, you’ll be on net duty.” 

Harry shouts something that sounds like a swear word down the corridor and Louis cackles, tipping his head into Liam’s shoulder to laugh against the wool of his jumper. 

“You’re earlier that I thought you’d be,” Louis murmurs and Liam looks down at him, eyes softening. He tips his head, nearly close enough to rub his nose against Louis’ cheek. Niall tightens his hands around his mug. He has the distinct feeling that he’s intruding but it’s unsettling how he doesn’t feel awkward about it. 

“Took him ages to get up this morning.” Liam sighs and shakes his head. “And then he made a big deal about finding some jumper my mum had stuck in the wash.” 

“He’ll get it next time.” Louis shrugs and sits up properly again, sticking a hand into the bag and pulling out a packet of bacon. “Liam! You’ve been hiding this from me!”

Liam shoves at Louis’ shoulder but he’s smiling, soft and fond, fingers lingering on Louis’ wrist as he moves to get up. Niall frowns down at his milky tea but Louis appears in front of him, tripping over his socked feet. 

“First, most important question of the day,” Louis begins and Liam’s doing that eye traily thing that he was doing this morning. Niall doesn’t like being put on the spot like this but he pushes his lips into a semblance of a grin and waits for Louis to ask. 

He takes a deep breath. “Do you fancy a bacon buttie for brekkie?” 

The set of Niall’s shoulders collapse and Liam sputters out a laugh from across the room. 

“Yeah.” Niall grins and Louis matches it, reaching out to ruffle at Niall’s hair as he squeezes past him to flick on the cooker. 

Niall’s nearly finished eating by the time Harry and Zayn make it into the kitchen. The sun has risen properly, bleak and low in the sky and it shines through the grimy window in the corner of the kitchen. The kitchen feels more warm every time Niall catches a glimpse of the grey outside. 

“Ah Liam you give up so easily,” Harry tells him when Louis chucks the empty bacon packet at him. 

“Well,” Louis says loudly, drowning out Harry. He’s perked up even more, if that’s possible, now he’s onto his second mug of tea. “Look what the cat dragged in!” 

Harry grins, wide and bright, shoving Zayn towards the booth as he goes over to the kettle again. 

“Mornin’” Zayn yawns and squeezes into the booth beside Louis. Louis scrutinizes him for a moment before leaning in and pressing his thumb over a spot on Zayn’s neck, down low enough that his t-shirt covers it. Niall never would’ve seen it if Louis hadn’t pulled at the collar of his shirt. 

“That looks like quite a wake up call,” Louis says and Zayn shivers, neck flushing red. Niall chews quietly at his crusts. 

Harry looks a bit smug when he crosses the kitchen, teapot in hand. He tops off Niall’s mug without really looking at him and misses Louis out entirely. 

“Green isn’t a good colour on you, Lou,” he tells him and nudges at Niall’s side with his hip. Niall makes room for him but it’s a tight squeeze in the bench, Harry’s knees knocking into Niall’s as he settles himself. He grabs one of the sandwiches and shoves it into his mouth. “Great, I’m starved.”

“You had breakfast an hour ago,” Liam reminds him with a laugh and moves the plate out from the centre of the table. 

“Growing boy and all that.” Harry shrugs and tucks himself closer to Niall’s side. It makes him shove up against Liam’s side and Niall has a flicker of panic at how close they’ve hemmed him in. The table cuts into his belly and the back of the bench backs onto the yellow, peeling wallpaper. 

“Here,” Liam says and passes Niall the last sandwich on the plate. “Zayn doesn’t do breakfast; you can have it.” 

“Zayn doesn’t do bacon,” Zayn corrects him tiredly and takes a gulp of tea. He has a cigarette tucked behind his hair and there’s sleep still in his eye. He catches Niall staring and his lips thin, not quite in a smile. “I’m Zayn.”

Niall pauses, the sandwich already in his hand and he suddenly wonders if he’s being rude. He clears his throat and they’re all silent, watching him. Louis is grinning and Harry is licking red sauce off his thumb and Liam’s looking at Zayn. Niall wonders wildly if this is one of Harry’s pranks.

“I’m Niall,” Niall says slowly, heat of the sandwich seeping into his thumb. 

“Hey, Niall,” Harry choruses back at him, ducking down quickly to snap his teeth at Niall’s hand. Niall flinches away and Harry gets a tear of crust for his trouble. Blood roars in Niall’s ears for a moment, muscles tensing before he realises everyone else is laughing, even Zayn, sleepy eyed into his mug. 

Niall’s shoulders finally relax into a laugh too.

*

By the end of the day Niall knows three things: 

1\. Harry is definitely fucking Louis, 

2\. Harry is definitely fucking Zayn too 

and 3. Niall isn't cut out for work on a fishing boat. 

He has muscles aching in places he didn't know existed and he's permanently cold, skin pricked up in gooseflesh, his toes having lost all feeling about an hour ago.

Most of the day seems like a blur, a list of rules and regulations smudging into Liam’s health and safety speech. Harry had taught him how to tie a few knots and Zayn had showed him how the rig on the deck worked. Louis had shown him around the cabin, a few doors that lead off into clanging engine rooms and fusty cloakrooms, past a trap door that stored pounds of prawn and then circled back round to the kitchen. Niall’s not sure if he’d be able to find his way on his own; maybe he’d stick to the left like in a maze and find himself in the loo and not on deck.

Niall feels wrecked already and they haven’t even left the dock.

"Think about it, yeah?" Liam says, clapping him on the shoulder and it doesn't feel that reassuring when it's delivered with a wince. He knows he’s crap at it and it's clear the other four think he is too. Harry hugs him, clinging to the back of his shirt and nuzzling into his neck with his damp curls. He had shadowed him all day, telling him what to do and what not to do. 

"It was a really good attempt," Harry whispers and Niall tries to take it as a positive. Louis smirks and shakes his head but then offers Niall a genuine smile. Zayn’s gone back to looking sleepy, tucked into the corner of the bench. Louis doesn't look quite ready to leave either so he presumes he's staying another night with him in the boat. 

Liam pulls his bag over his shoulder, full of more washing to do: the jeans that were lying underneath the kitchen table and the jumpers in the control room. Niall has a sneaking suspicion that none of them actually belong to Liam, even as he stuffs them into his bag.

"See you in the morning," Liam tells them and then leans in, kissing at Louis’ cheek and gripping at Zayn’s fingers until he tips his head forward to press chastely at Liam's lips too. Harry's kisses goodbye are much more extrovert, a hint of tongue licking wickedly over Zayn’s lips before he snogs Louis, hand clenching in Liam's sleeve to keep his balance. When he pulls away he lets his hand slip down to intertwine with Liam's.

"Not too early," Louis quips and settles back in beside Zayn. His lips look bruised and he's grinning, getting comfy with his shoulder pressed into Zayn’s ribs. "We have plans for tonight." He wiggles his eyebrows and Niall suddenly feels even more lost. Louis and Zayn can’t be fucking too?

Harry walks him to the end of the pier in silence; it's not awkward but Niall feels the pull when Liam keeps walking up to their car in the car park.

"Will we be seeing you next Friday?" Harry asks and shivers against the cold. It's blustery again as it falls to dusk. Niall looks up at him and Harry smiles sadly back.

"It's not for everyone, I get it," Harry says but it sounds small. "Just let Simon know, yeah? The last guy, he, um, he just fucked off without saying anything and, um, that‘s not cool, y’know?"

Niall nods and Harry gives him a smile before he's tipping into another hug. "Today was fun. I'll see you around."

And then he's walking up the slope to the car park. Niall stands still for a moment, watching the light of the car as Harry slides into the passenger seat. He can see the side of Liam's face, illuminated for a brief moment and the smile he gives Harry. Niall’s chest feels oddly tight. He takes another breath and tries not to feel completely overwhelmed before he sets off home.

*

His dad doesn't ask him about it, just seems to sense that Niall’s not ready to talk. Niall appreciates his silence because it’s true, he doesn't even know what he'd say - that fishing is terrible, everything is cold and dangerous and smelly. That the con list is growing longer and longer the more he mulls it over and it’s all pointing him towards saying no. But that there's these four boys and Niall feels the inexplicable pull towards them, that he wants to go back up into that boat, and maybe, out of the netting and the fish hooks and the waves, they're the most dangerous part.

His dad pulls him into a half hug on Thursday night, a sad smile on his face while Niall’s peeling carrots for dinner.

"I asked again at the shop for you," he says quietly, aware of Greg floating about the living room. Niall pauses for a moment with the vegetable peeler before he forces his hand to keep moving again, skinning the end of the carrot carefully.

"Thanks, Dad, I appreciate it," Niall says because this is a frequent occurrence now, having his dad come and tell him how there's no work for him there.

Bobby pulls a face and Niall gets that maybe this is as hard for him as well. "They don't think there'll be anything until at least the summer."

Niall nods, focusing on peeling the awkward bit at the top of the carrot carefully.

"Maybe," his dad says so quietly that it's hard for Niall to hear over the sound of the TV in the living room. "Maybe you should try this fishing thing out? And if it's still as bad, there will be something waiting for you when you come back?"

Niall takes a deep breath, carrot forgotten as he lets that sink in. He’s not sure that walking away would be so easy after going with them, something in his gut churns at the thought of it, even in the imagined future in his head. Looming, dark and ominous. 

"You're young," his dad comments and gives him a final squeeze before walking away jerkily. "And I think maybe you want to give it a go."

Niall glances up then and sees the way his dad smiles at him, soft and sad and somehow perfectly proud.

"Just make sure you say goodbye to your brother," he says quietly and pats him on the cheek. Niall keeps his eye for a moment and he doesn’t know what to say.

“And be careful.” His dad continues, smile growing soft. “The sea is a mysterious place. Don’t be tempted by the unknown.”

Niall grins at him, feeling half endeared by his father’s superstitions. “Like pirates?”

His Da laughs, lips twisting into his cheek. “Something like that.”

His dad pats him again, palm warm against Niall’s jaw before he steps back and turns towards setting the table for dinner.

*

Harry's grin splits across his face when he clocks him on the pier. He's wearing that green jumper again and he looks sleep rumpled, like maybe he slept on the boat last night instead of at home with Liam. It unsettles him and Niall isn’t sure which part he’s upset over, that Harry stayed with Louis and Zayn or that Liam was maybe left on his own. 

"Well." Harry grins and jumps over the edge of the boat. He's got a hand twisted in the elbow of Niall’s coat as he beams at him. "I told Zayn you'd be back, he was so sure you wouldn’t but I swore you would be back."

"Hiya." Niall smiles at him and the nervous feeling in his belly disappears with every astonished blink of his eye. "I hope that's ok?"

"Of course it's fucking ok." Harry pulls him into a hug then, hand coming up to grip at the nape of Niall’s neck. It makes him shiver and he doesn't think about it as he sinks into the space between Harry’s jaw and shoulder, nuzzling in where he’s warm and welcoming in the cold morning.

"Come in," Harry tells him and helps him up over the side of the boat again. It’s still as awkward as before, Harry’s hand pushing at his hips as Niall tips himself over. He’s got a bag with him this time and it pulls at his shoulder when he topples over. "Lou's making breakfast,” Harry says as he hoists himself over a moment later, landing easily on his feet.

The walls seem smaller the second time around, as if trying to highlight how tiny the place is. Niall sucks in a breath through his teeth as he follows Harry down towards the kitchen, bag bulky on his back and scraping against the walls on either side of his shoulders. He keeps a hand against the wall like last time and tries to get used to the rockiness.

"Look who came back?" Harry announces and he sounds delighted. It settles Niall’s stomach and he takes a deep breath before he pushes through the kitchen door after him. Louis looks up from the table, jam and crumbs crusted on his lower lip but they fall off when he grins.

"Hello, stranger," he says quietly and Niall’s stomach grows warmer. There's something nice about how soft and quiet Louis is in the morning before he wakes up properly.

Liam appears at the door a moment later, Zayn trailing behind him looking worn out already.

"Hey," Liam grins at him and pulls him into an easy hug. It's different to the way Harry hugs him, stronger and less of a cling but it makes him feel warm to the tips if his toes.

Zayn even gives him a small smile, soft around the edges and eyes crinkling in a way that shows it's genuine. He raises his eyebrows at him but doesn’t offer him any other greeting. 

"Let's get to work then, lads," Liam says after a moment. Niall glances around them all and sees them stare back at him. He knows he should feel nervous under all of their scrutiny at once but it morphs into butterflies in his tummy under all their gazes. 

"Emotional time is over," Louis agrees with a cheeky smile. "Niall, help yourself to breakfast, you’re going to need it.” 

Zayn snorts and reaches past Niall to flick on the kettle again. “Big day ahead,“ he says cheerfully, voice rough like he just woke up or something. His smile widens as Niall drops his bag into the corner of the kitchen and reaches for the cupboard where he knows the mugs are kept. 

*

The boat hardly rocks when it picks up speed and if everything didn't smell of salt and fish and metal Niall could nearly be tricked into thinking he's on solid ground. Nearly.

It's warm in the cabin, heated by the oven as Harry makes dinner. It's a chicken pie, pastry crusting over a hot stew and it smells like home. He’s in an apron and it looks ridiculous because his wrists are black from where he’s been oiling chains all afternoon, palms clean where he’s scrubbed them to make dinner. There’s a smear of it under his chin and it’s nearly green against his skin tone. 

"In a few weeks, when the meat run out, Harry gives up," Louis murmurs to him but he keeps glancing over to where Harry's stooped over, pulling bread out of the oven. "And Zayn cooks fish curry for a week straight. So enjoy it while you can; you'll never look at a piece of cod the same way after this mate."

Zayn smiles and Niall hadn't even been sure he had been listening. He looks up from his book, curling the corner of the page to mark his spot. "You're grateful of my curry when you're whining about how cold you are."

"You can always warm me up," Louis leers at him. Zayn grins, face opening up. He must kick him under the table because Niall’s knee is jostled by Louis as he moves his leg sharply to the left. His leg disappears just as quick as it appeared and Niall wonders how close he has it pressed to Zayn’s now, Zayn’s eyes going sharp for a moment before he smirks again.

"I do my best." Zayn shrugs. Harry shuffles over then, two plates in his hand, passing the first one to Zayn. Harry looks a bit frazzled but he’d gotten a little territorial when Niall offered to help with the dinner. He grins at him now, setting the plate in front of him and Niall’s starting to understand that this is how he pulls his weight, looking after them all.

Liam squeezes in beside them a moment later, passing out salad from a bag, hands scrubbed pink and clean. Harry looks affronted across from him.

"With your hands, Li?" he asks and plonks the bread in the middle of the table. "We have a guest!"

Niall laughs along with the rest of them and Niall doesn’t want to think too much into the fact that Harry’s trying to impress him. The plates are real china and he has a proper glass in front of him for his drink. Harry had made up a jug of diluting juice and it’s in the middle of the table, only one chip out of the rim. Niall wouldn’t even have noticed if it wasn’t right in front of him, catching the last of the light from the window, sparkling green and blue. 

Harry passes him a beer before sitting at the edge of the table, quietly appraising him over his plate. They all sort of are and it’s not the first time he’s caught them at it today. It feels like he’s still at the interview stages. Harry had taken nearly an hour to teach him how to oil the chains and Louis had shown him properly around the boat, in much more detail than the last time he’d been on it. Liam had watched him read over a few of the maps and try to make sense of the navigation system while Zayn had passed him a thin book about different types of fish and crab and prawns and then sat down opposite him at the kitchen table and watched him read it. Niall hadn’t taken much in, just glanced at some of the photos and listened to the slow and patient breathing of Zayn opposite him, knees pressed together under the table.

Niall smiles at them in turn before scooping up a forkful of dinner to his mouth. It’s warm and spreads over his tongue, delicious after a day being outside. He glances up to meet Harry’s eye.

"Tastes great, Harry," Niall tells him and watches as he flushes and preens. "Thank you."

Zayn’s shoulders relax and everyone tucks in in silence. They've stopped somewhere, right bang in the middle of the ocean and the rock of the boat is more noticeable now, a gentle sway that Niall’s insides still haven't got used to. The others aren't fazed, inhaling their food as quickly as they can. 

When they’re done, none of them make a move to leave, dishes forgotten stacked up at the end of the table. Niall worries for a moment that they’ll tip over the edge and smash on the floor but none of the others look too bothered so he tries to forget about them too. 

Time passes quickly, the sky growing dark outside the window, and Niall thought he would’ve grown bored but they talk until Niall has to hide his yawns into the inside of his wrist. The others are tired too but Niall doesn’t realise until Harry leans his head on his shoulder, making Niall’s shoulders go very still. When he glances up he can see how the others have seen him. Louis face is impassive and Liam hides it well but Zayn keeps his eyes trained on them, eyes narrowing as if he's trying to work out what's going on. Niall would quite like to know as well.

"He's handsy when he's tired," Louis says fondly and reaches over to tickle at his wrist. Harry squirms but it just pushes him more into Niall, his body a warm line against his side. "Nearly time for bed, I think."

Niall nods, already tired to the bone but none of them move. Zayn gets them all another round of drinks and it’s like they’re waiting on something, until they’re allowed to go to bed. Niall isn’t sure what but he’s fine here, tucked between them all, warm from the beer in his belly. He’s starting to get nervous about bed, anticipating the first night in a strange bed that isn’t home. It isn’t that he’s homesick already, it just makes him pine for the familiarity of his own bed and his own rules. 

Liam leans back, t-shirt riding up his stomach slightly, to reach an old radio at the end of the bench. He switches it on and it crackles, the whirl of the wind audible over the speaker. There’s someone speaking but it’s low, an old fashioned radio show and Liam seems content to have it so low that Niall can’t hear what’s being said. 

Louis keeps talking, something about what superpower would be better out at sea, Zayn dissolving into laughter whenever Louis says something ridiculous.

“Flippers would be pretty cool,” Louis tells him excitedly. Zayn grins at him, mouth screwing up at the side. Harry snorts into his shoulder and Niall doesn’t like how it feels like he’s on the outside of the joke.

“Maybe a tail,” he mutters. Liam laughs loudly and then stops, winding the volume dial of the radio up until they can all hear it. 

Harry perks up as the tune starts, humming along with it. It sounds older, like from a wartime movie but they all seem to know it, smiling as they hum. 

“Come along,” Louis says, putting on a voice. He grabs Harry’s hand and drags him into the middle of the kitchen where Harry settles a hand on his waist, stepping into line perfectly as Louis starts to dance them, over exaggeratedly, around the kitchen. 

Zayn laughs, ducking his head for a moment. Niall catches the way his nose scrunches up. 

“There’s five of us now,” Louis says, as if he’s just realised it. He drops Harry’s hand and looks at Niall. “We can all have a dance.” 

Niall stares at him, wide eyed but Harry’s grinning at him over Louis’ shoulder. He reaches for Zayn’s hand and Zayn laughs again, loud and short, before letting Harry pull him into a waltz. 

“Come on,” Louis says and wraps his hand around Niall’s. His fingers feel cool from where he’s been cradling his bottle of beer but they warm when they intertwine with Niall‘s. “It’s rude not to dance to the first shipping forecast of the season.”

Niall hasn’t a clue what he’s on about but he feels himself lifting up out of his chair anyway. Louis’ hand settles at the curve of his hip, the other one lifting up to clasp Niall’s hand in the air. He feels silly, embarrassed laughter bubbling at the base of his throat, but Louis waggles his eyebrows at him, smile reassuring him that he’s not laughing _at_ him. It makes him feel better, giving him the courage to squeeze Louis’ fingers back and step into him. Harry and Zayn stumble about behind them, giggling when they bump into the sink and then into the cooker. 

Louis starts humming loudly again, getting each note perfect like he’s heard the song a hundred times before. He spins Niall, manoeuvring him around Zayn and Harry only to bump them into the table, the corner of it jabbing into Niall’s back. Liam looks on, smiling wide as he hums the tune jauntily along too. 

It slows then, turning wistful and suddenly Louis is dipping Niall, the room tilting behind his head. Niall laughs at the unexpected drop, blood rushing to his head as he takes in a deep breath. 

He’s still bent backwards when Louis starts talking rapidly, matching his words with that of the announcer on the radio.

“BBC Radio Four, and now the Shipping Forecast, issued by the Met Office on behalf of the Maritime and Coastguard Agency at double oh, one, dammit,” Louis swears and Niall’s righted again, head spinning as his blood drains down his body. Louis keeps a hand on his waist and behind him Harry’s leaning against the cooker, laughing loudly. The announcer rattles on on the radio behind them. 

“Still.” Zayn shakes his head. “After all this time, you still can’t get it right.”

“How do they say it so fast?” Louis demands, letting go of Niall’s hand. His palm feels colder now that Louis isn’t touching him. He turns to see Liam, crouched over a pad of paper at the table, scribbling down the forecast as fast as he can, the words rapidly coming out of the radio. Niall can’t make head nor tail of it. 

_“Viking, North Utsire, South Utsire, Fourties, Cromarty, Fourth. Variable, mainly southerly three or four. Thundery showers moderate, later good. Tyne, Dogger, Fisher -”_

Niall’s head spins but Liam’s pen pauses, his head cocked to the side as he listens. The others quieten down behind him, Louis slipping into his seat again as they let Liam concentrate. 

_“South Trafalgar, Northerly four or five, North Trafalgar, FitzRoy, variable, suddenly veering southwest -”_

Niall can feel his head start to cloud with the words, the rhythmic nature of them making him sleepy again. Harry looks the same, eyelids drooping then and he pushes Niall easily back into the sofa. 

“It takes about ten minutes,” he whispers, curling up against him again. Niall focuses on the deep in-out of his breathing as they listen, the words running into one another as the announcer takes a pause to breathe himself.

_“Bridlington, north by west one, eleven miles, one thousand and six, falling slowly. Sandettie Light Vessel Automatic, south west by south two, recent rain, twenty four miles, one thousand and ten -”_

Niall lets his eyes close, letting the words wash over him as Liam scratches the relevant bits of the forecast onto paper. 

“Bed time,” Liam says with a smile as he sets down his pen a few minutes later. The announcer on the radio is finishing up and Liam snaps the volume down again on the dial, until Niall can hardly hear it at all. 

Zayn looks up him then, eyes twinkling when he catches Niall’s gaze.

"Newbie gets first watch." He shrugs and Niall has to smile. 

He had been expecting something like this, that he would have to do a few shit jobs to fit in at first. They all give him a pat on the shoulder, Harry’s hand lingering for a few moments before he moves to the navigation room and settles in one of the chairs, listening to the rest of them getting ready for bed. Harry wanders about sleepily, brushing his teeth and dripping white foam over his toes and the sink in the kitchen while Liam clears away the tea and Louis complains that he can’t find his pyjama bottoms. 

They call out to him before they disappear into their room, one by one, quiet down the hallway. It reminds Niall of his granny and her obsession with the Waltons. And then, suddenly, Niall’s left alone with the dark sea spreading out beyond him, quiet and vast. It's not so bad. He just has to sit and watch the radar, just in case something was to happen. They drift for a while, with the anchor up, and Niall sits beside the computer, bundled in a thick jumper.

There's nothing around them but the slosh of water so it's easy for Niall to hear them. It makes him flush, heat pooling in his belly as his dick shows it's interest. One of them is loud and he thinks it's Harry, something desperate sounding and the low moaning of the rest of them. He thinks he hears the sound of a headboard knocking but he can’t be sure it’s not the natural knock of the boat. Someone cries out, sharp and quick, and Niall can’t help himself, he has to reach down to cup himself through the fabric of his joggers. He would love to go one step further, maybe wrap his fingers around his dick but he knows he can’t, just allows himself a gentle squeeze. He thinks of the people in the other room, of one of them coming out and catching him having a wank on his first night beside all of Zayn’s fancy computers. 

He'd be mortified and they would probably kick him off the boat. Zayn could hang him over the rail and dangle him over the ocean. Harry would be offended, a look of a wounded animal etched on his face. Louis might laugh but that scares Niall just as much.

They quiet down soon, all of them falling asleep until five to four when the door opens behind him, a click and a slide of the runner loud in the quiet.

Niall looks around slowly, he's tucked into the back of the chair and he's close to falling asleep now, tired out from the day at sea.

"Hiya," Zayn says and sinks into the second chair. He's wrapped in a blanket, a dark purple that stands out against his skin. There's swirls of ink across the space of collarbone he can see and his knees are knobbly where he tucks his feet up below him. He looks tired but his smile is relaxed and Niall feels another throb of desire and want. He wants to watch Zayn get like this, wants to be the one to put him like this, face smooth and happy.

"How are you finding it?" He asks and looks over at him quietly. Niall shrugs and picks at a thread on his thigh. He's not sure; part of him still thinks he's making a huge mistake, that he’s going to regret getting onto this boat with whatever is going on between his four crew mates.

"You'll get used to it," Zayn tells him, tipping his head to the side to appraise him better. "There's fun bits too."

Niall nods and sits quietly, cheeks heating up under Zayn‘s scrutiny. He keeps catching the tousled and crumpled state of Zayn‘s fringe in the corner of his eye and imagining scrubbing his hands through it. 

"Look," Zayn starts and pulls an uncomfortable expression. Niall’s glad it isn't just him feeling the drag of time and awkward air around them. 

"The four of you?" Niall says and trails off. He’s not sure how to properly phrase it, words clogging up on his tongue.

Zayn smiles, slow and amused, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yeah," he says simply and Niall nods. It feels more weighty now that it’s properly confirmed, more definite. Niall swallows.

"You have a problem with it?" Zayn asks apprehensively and Niall’s shoulders lock into place.

"No,” he says carefully, making Zayn narrow his eyes again at the hesitation in his voice. "I just -"

He can hardly say he wants to join in, that the sounds they make together gets him hard. He can’t tell him that he's lonely and there’s nothing more he wants than to be wrapped up in the middle of them all in their bed.

"Do you have a problem with me?" Niall asks very quietly. Zayn’s face stays blank before he breaks into a small smile.

"No." He looks a bit guilty for a minute then before his face goes more serious again. "Harry, he um -"

Zayn pushes a hand through his hair and tugs on it. It looks even more ruffled now, so different to how it usually looks during the day.

Niall waits quietly as Zayn finds what he wants to say next. The sea stretches out in front of them.

"He grows attached quickly, falls hard and always ends up hurt, y'know?" Zayn says quietly and it feels like a confession. He laughs then, like he can't believe it. "There's four of us and it still feels like there's something missing. Y'know?"

Niall does know because he's been missing something for a while now. He nods and Zayn smiles tiredly again.

"Some people don't really get it," he shrugs and there’s a silence that lingers after his words. "People, they, uh, come and go."

Niall gets the impression there's more to the story but he doesn't push for it. He'll find out when the time’s right. Zayn looks up at him and he nearly looks shy, eyes flitting away when Niall goes to meet his gaze.

"I thought you should just know that," he says slowly. Niall nods and they're quiet for a moment, gently rocking before Zayn smiles suddenly.

"Go in to bed." He clears his throat and he sounds so much more awake than a moment ago. "There's no point both of us staying up."

"You sure?" Niall asks. He's too tired to properly protest because his bed sounds like heaven right now. Zayn nods and gives him another quiet smile, one that Niall’s noticed him giving to the other boys throughout the day, when Louis brings him a mug of tea or Liam swears. Niall curls his fingers into the sleeves of his jumper and hugs it tight around himself as he stands up.

"See you in the morning," Niall whispers because it feels like he can't talk too loud anymore. Zayn lifts a hand and Niall thinks for a moment he's going to grab his arm but instead his fingers just brush against his wrist before he folds his arms across his chest.

Niall’s breath stutters anyway, catching short at the mere thought of it and he has to force his feet out in front of him to walk down the corridor. 

Harry's in the bottom bunk when he gets to the room and Niall hadn't heard him move rooms so he isn't sure if it was before or after his and Zayn’s little chat. He looks peaceful, face smoothed out and lips moving silently as he breathes. Niall feels a bit reckless and allows himself to push his hand through his hair, feeling the warmth of his scalp before climbing quickly into the bunk above him. 

He isn’t sure why he did it but as he lies back into the bunk and stares at the too close ceiling he knows that it felt right. 

*

"You're a lazy lump," Harry says and Niall registers that he's poking at his cheek and that he’s actually woken him up. Niall squints his eyes open and Harry grins brightly at him. "Come on, you've had enough beauty sleep."

"Not enough," Niall murmurs and rolls his head into the soft pillow below him. He isn't sure of the time, the curtains are permanently drawn in Harry’s room and the lamp is glowing as yellow as it was last night. He knows he's definitely warmer under the covers though so he squirms under them, huddling away from Harry’s voice. Harry snorts, icy fingers slipping down his neck to make Niall jump.

"Unfair tactics," Niall whines but peeks his eyes open at Harry. He grins at him again and Niall wonders how he‘s so smiley in the morning.

"Come on, we're about to drop the net and we actually need your help," Harry says and takes a step back. Niall moves, edging to the side of the bed before swinging his feet down. There's an extra panel that sort of reminds him of a cot to make sure he doesn’t fall out of bed during the night but it just gets in the way, forcing Niall to kick his way out of his thick blankets and for Harry to laugh from the doorway.

“What time is it?” Niall asks groggily because Harry’s already trussed up in a pair of jeans and wellie boots up to his knees. His hair looks a bit windswept and his jacket looks heavy, padded around the chest. He looks good though, something glowing on his skin that makes Niall want to give into the urge to press his tongue flat against his temple.

“Morning,” Harry answers and Niall fights hard not to roll his eyes and look rude. Harry just laughs again, low under his breath as Niall climbs down from the bunk. He stumbles, reorienting himself with the rock of the boat. Harry throws an arm out to help him but he’s swaying too so it makes very little difference. 

“Have you been up long?” Niall asks instead and pulls on his jumper from yesterday. He’s learning quickly that showers are for special occasions on the boat. 

Harry shrugs. “You’ve missed breakfast but Zayn made me not wake you up.” 

Niall nods and feels himself smile at Zayn being thoughtful. Harry chucks him a second pair of socks and pulls him into a hug. 

“Did you have a good sleep?” he asks and tugs him along the corridor. Niall stumbles into the wall again. They pass the kitchen and it’s empty, teapot sitting dangerously close to the edge of the table. Niall doesn’t know how there haven’t been any breakages yet. They walk on, finding Liam in the navigation room.

“Morning,” Liam says brightly and he’s sitting in the chair Zayn was in last night, coat on, but he looks dry. He’s studying a map but folds it up when they appear. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods and kicks open the door to the deck. It’s windy, whipping around them and it’s wet. Niall can’t tell if it’s raining or if it’s just the spray of the water. It doesn’t matter because his face is damp after a few seconds, hair dripping down over his eyes. 

His coat is heavy and the same colour as Harry’s. Louis’ standing up by a huge floater and he’s waiting on them, feet shoulder width apart to keep his balance. Niall staggers a bit but works his way across the deck to meet him. 

“We’re just going to mid water fish today,” he yells over the wind at him. Niall nods, like he knows what he’s talking about. Harry’s already climbing up over a metal limb, reaching out to grab a hook. It’s all rigged up to hydraulics and when he turns back to Louis he sees he’s got a walkie talkie strapped to his hand, tucked under the sleeve of his coat so it doesn’t get wet. 

“We have to go at 3 knot so the wings stay up,” Louis tells him and Niall suddenly feels out of his depth. He should have googled this more before he signed up. They’ve run through the basics with him before but now that he’s standing out on deck, in the water and keeping his balance, it’s a completely different ball game.

Harry lands back on his feet and he grins at him, unfurling the huge green nets that have been trussed up against the side of the cabin since they’ve been on the water. Harry talks him through it quickly: where the doors are and the floats and how they attach to the nets. It still makes his head spin though, watching Harry and Louis unravel the nets and put them in order. They all look the same but Louis and Harry fold them in a system so practised that it looks like they could do it in their sleep, shifting their weight in time with the roll of the boat so they don’t fall over. Niall grips onto the ladder tighter. 

Harry sinks to his knees and ties a complicated series of knots, fingers looping the rope over and under and it looks so _easy_ when he does it. He’s seen him do it before, tried out even but Harry does it with such ease.

“Ready?” he shouts over at Louis and Louis nods, lifting his arm to say something to Liam back in the boat. The winch moves and together the three of them lift up the nets, pushing them to the edge of the boat and tipping them over into the water. Harry and Louis walk away once they’re over, Louis talking into the walkie talkie again but Niall stays and watches as the doors lower into the water, widening out to open the net. It disappears into the water until just the chains and ropes holding it together can be seen.

“What do we do now?” Niall asks when he spins round. Harry’s already gone inside but Louis is standing, waiting on him. He’s not really smiling but he looks patient and Niall loves him for it because he’s starting to freak out a bit about how in over his head he is. 

Louis shrugs. “Now we wait.” 

Niall nods and glances over the side of the boat again, net slicing through the waves. 

Now they wait. 

 

*

When Zayn wakes up they share lunch together, splitting what’s left of the cheese between them on toast and washing it down with milky tea. Harry steals the edges of his crusts but sits quietly beside them as Zayn wakes up properly, eyes slowly coming clearer. 

Niall tries to eat as much as he can but his stomach is starting to roll, not used to the sway of the boat. He feels too hot, insides turning like he could puke at any moment. The rest of them are all well used to the rock of the sea so he stays quiet, swallowing down the spurts of spit under his tongue as the boat gives a nasty lurch. He suspects that Zayn knows though because he keeps smirking at him across the table. 

It’s when he stands up that it gets worse, gut going queasy as he fights to keep his balance in the middle of the messy kitchen, socked feet sliding a bit on the lino. 

“You good?” Harry asks, glancing up from where he’s pouring sugar into tiny piles at the edge of the table. It’s starting to dawn on Niall that there may be points of extreme boredom on the boat - Harry looks far too entertained by his sugar mountain.

Niall wants to say yes, laugh off their worries but he knows if he opens his mouth he’s going to vomit. So instead, he clenches his teeth together, mouth filling with saliva and turns on his heel, skidding slightly. 

“Told you.” Zayn starts to laugh from the table. Harry replies something back but Niall doesn’t hear properly, he’s too busy with trying to find his way towards the bathroom through the low doors and snaking maze of corridors. 

The light flickers yellow above his head and his world tilts for a moment as he tries to work out where the toilet is. He leans up against the wall and ends up in the navigation room, Liam looking up over his shoulder at him. 

“You ok?” Liam calls to him but Niall pushes through the doors and out onto the deck just in time to empty his stomach over the rail of the boat. His stomach rolls again with another lurch of the boat around him and it takes all his energy not to fall head first overboard. 

“You lasted longer than I thought you would,” Louis commends him when he finally stands up, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. 

Niall pulls a face that only makes Louis grin at him, sharp, with a flash of teeth. 

“And how come you guys are alright?” Niall asks and thumbs at his eyes, wet from the exertion of throwing up. The waves aren’t as rough as they were earlier, breaking easily up against the side of the boat. Niall stares at them for a long moment, the blue giving away into dark. He thinks he sees a flash of red but when he blinks it’s gone. 

Louis gives him a quiet smile when he next looks up. “M’used to it, I guess.” 

Niall nods, clearing his throat and wincing at the taste at the back of his tongue. 

“Come on,” Louis says and offers out his arm, letting Niall tuck in under it. He smells good, like oranges and warm skin. He still has that fresh, salty smell of the sea on his skin too. It settles Niall’s stomach a little to be pressed close to him, allowing him to steer him back towards the others. 

Zayn’s moved into the navigation room, both he and Liam have their heads tucked together deciphering the latest weather report. Harry’s still in the kitchen, lying back across the padded bench around the booth, sugar drawings forgotten. Niall climbs in beside him, shutting his eyes against the sway of the room. Louis chuckles again, book-ending him into the bench and breathing out slowly, jumper warm against the edge of Niall’s arm.

There’s a faint drone, slowly becoming the soundtrack to their lives as the rest of them relax. Niall works out that it’s the net below them and all the rigging it’s hooked up to, droning as it keeps it all together and they travel on at a steady speed. There’s a clank and scrunch somewhere below them but it’s surprising how easy it is to block them out. 

It’s already growing dark outside by the time Liam says they’re going to lift the nets. 

“I was just about to start dinner,” Harry tells him, frowning slightly. He’s stretched out across the floor now, feet propped up near Niall’s ankles. He has a hand flung under his head so his t-shirt slips up over his belly and Niall has been watching the cut of his hips move as he breathes for the past ten minutes.

Liam gives him a look and it’s the first time Niall’s seen him pull rank. Harry wilts slightly. 

“This is the smelly bit,” Zayn mutters and pats Niall on the side of the neck, letting him get out of the booth before him. Harry stays on the floor, pouting up at Liam but by the look on Liam’s face, Niall doesn’t think he’ll budge. 

Niall follows them out to the deck, stopping in the porch of the boat to pull on his waterproof waders and heavy boots. He’s wearing a pair of Louis’ that he’d had spare and they’re bright yellow, shiny and squeaky when they get wet. 

“They match your hair.” Louis had grinned at him, stopping in the doorway out to deck. He’s decked out in black, the heavy coat bulky around his shoulders. 

“To make sure you don’t get lost,” Zayn follows up as they step out onto deck. Niall’s feet squeak against the wet floorboards. 

“Just an extra precaution for the greenhorn,” Louis shouts over his shoulder, eyes twinkling. 

“Harry had to wear them for three months when he went through a phase of getting splinters in his feet.” Zayn fills him in and pushes him further out into the spray of the ocean. It’s rougher now, the wind picking up and making the boat rock. The unsteadiness is more pronounced now they’re outside and Niall has limited things to grab onto when he feels off balance. 

“What’s he doing out here without shoes on?” Niall asks and squints so he doesn’t get water in his eyes. 

“Makes him feel at one with the water.” Zayn snorts and pushes a pair of gloves into Niall’s chest. 

“No wonder he got so many splinters,” Niall mutters to himself. 

Harry grins at him, face peering out of his waterproof hood and Niall feels another wave of nausea. 

The work’s tough. The chains clank and it seem like forever until the net reaches the surface of the water. The net is heavy and they put all their weight behind the rig, the mechanics pulling taut. 

The prawns splatter across the deck, the net opening up from where it swings on the rig above them. Niall sucks in a breath, salty and pungent at the sight. Harry’s already bending down, scooping prawns into the trench in the centre of the deck. It takes him a moment but Niall follows his lead and bends down too. 

The seagulls don’t take long, swooping down close to them on the deck but not enough to grab a bite. They scare the shit out of Niall though, the loud cackling caw of them and the flap of their wings. It’s just another noise to add to the cacophony around him and when he gets used to it, he hardly even flinches.

By the time the last shellfish is sorted, Niall’s dead on his feet. His clothes are clinging to him, shirt stuck to his back with sweat and damp from water. His legs feel like ice, toes numb in his too heavy boots. 

“Regretting signing up now?” Louis asks lightly. He looks as tired as Niall feels, eyes sunken and dark. His skin is pale but his smile is bright. 

“Yeah,” Niall answers honestly. Louis snorts, leaning over to ruffle at his hair. His hand is sticky and wet but Niall doesn’t care, he’ll get the chance to douse off the slime and grit of the day later. 

“Supper,” Louis tells him. “Or breakfast, whatever you’d like to call it, and then bed.”

Niall nods and follows him out of the hold, Louis leading the way. He’s so exhausted he doesn’t even think twice when Louis grips at his hand, winding them across the slippery deck and towards the side door upstairs. The sun is beginning to rise and Niall hadn’t even noticed, eyes growing used to the glow of the fluorescents downstairs, the sea calm in the early morning twilight. Seagulls spiral above them, squawking with hunger as they pack the last of the fish away under the deck.

Zayn’s on the wheel, cup of something cradled between his hands, and he looks sleepy, appraising them quietly as they climb through the wet room. 

“All done?” he asks quietly and Louis nods at him, stripping out of his waders. Niall follows suit, throwing them into the corner where Louis set his. He’ll regret it tomorrow probably but he’s too tired to care. Zayn’s eyes flick down to see where he‘s dumped his stuff but Niall tries as hard as he can to ignore him, trying not to feel self conscious in his t-shirt that’s stuck to his skin.

“Hit the shower,” Zayn tells him slowly and Niall nods, squeezing past Louis. 

“I’ll get the tea on,” Louis calls behind him and Niall nods again, too tired to do anything but raise his hand to skim along the wall of the corridor. 

The water sluices over his shoulders and he scrapes a rough facecloth down his chest but he doesn’t do much else. He still stinks when he climbs out but he doesn’t care, he’s gotten used to it, nose numb to the smell of fish after working with it all day long. 

He can hear them chatting in the kitchen and he wonders how they haven’t passed out yet. He hesitates in the corridor, thinks about maybe joining them for a hot cup of tea and some of Harry’s toast but his bed looks inviting, sheets still messy from when he was last in it nearly twenty four hours ago. 

“Hey,” Harry whispers into the dark as he pushes through the door a few minutes later. Niall’s already in that hazy stage of half dreaming already, so he lies still, hoping Harry will quieten down to let him drift off. 

“Niall, are you awake?” 

His voice sounds rough and when Niall opens his eyes he’s standing beside the bed with a blank expression on his face, blanket wrapped around him so Niall can see where he’s not wearing a shirt underneath, wings of his birds peeking out of the fluffy material. 

“Yeah?” Niall asks and rolls onto his side. Harry’s mouth tugs down before he drops the blanket and moves towards the edge of Niall’s duvet. 

Niall lifts it up, wriggling back towards the wall so Harry can fit into the bunk beside him. It’s tight but once Harry makes it over the bed guard Niall’s reassured they won’t fall out. 

He smells of the sea and of the shower gel they use and of the other boys. His lips are redder than usual, plumped up where he bites into them and when Niall blinks he has an image of them all together, long limbs tangled. 

“What’s wrong?” Niall asks, snapping his eyes open again. 

“Just felt like staying with you tonight,” Harry whispers and burrows closer to him, seeping the warmth out of Niall’s skin. The boat rocks around them, rain battering off the sides. 

Niall nods, hair sticking to Harry’s temple he’s pressed so close. 

“You did really good out there today,” Harry mumbles and Niall thinks he nods again. Harry says something else but it’s watery, words hanging loose as Niall falls asleep.

*

Harry’s already up when he wakes but Niall’s used to it. He can hear them in the kitchen, the babble of conversation that Niall’s quickly becoming accustomed to. He can hear the loud laugh of Louis, sharp even this far down the hallway from the kitchen. 

He’s not sure of the time, hours on the boat blurring in together as they work around the clock and get sleep when they can. The sun has probably long since risen.

It’s cold when he gets out bed, sending a shiver up his spine as he pulls on a t-shirt. He’s got one foot into his jeans when he spots his shoes. His white vans are sitting by the door; two perfect circles of lemon on each toe. 

“What the fuck?” Niall asks himself in a whisper, stooping forward to grab Harry’s shirt off them. “Fuck!” he yells out, jumping back and nearly toppling over with his jeans around his ankles. Out of the left one is a shiny silver fish head, eye black and beady staring up at him. 

He hears a cackle from the kitchen and Niall spins, marching out of the door, grabbing his shoe as he goes past.

“What the fuck is this?” Niall calls before he’s even got to the other room and they all stay silent, staring up at him with faux innocent expressions when he gets to the doorway. 

“What’s up, Niall?” Liam asks from where he’s squeezed behind the table, Louis and Harry either side of him. There’s a few dishes in front of them, Harry still looks like he’s halfway through breakfast. 

“There’s a fucking fish in my shoe!” Niall waves his shoe about for effect. He catches a whiff of it and gags. 

Harry snorts, unable to contain his laugh anymore but Louis keeps his face straight. 

“Not a whole fish,” Louis says seriously. “That would be uneconomical.”

Niall gapes at him for a moment as Liam and Harry burst into laughter again. Niall feels the anger build up quickly in his belly and it makes complete sense to him to throw his shoe at Louis.

“Oi!” Louis yelps, ducking out of the way of the shoe. The fish head flops out, landing in Louis’ lap. He yelps again and flails his hands, scuffing his feet against the floor as he gets to his feet.

It makes Niall feel a bit better, laughter bubbling out of his throat instead of anger now.

“What are you throwing it at me for?” Louis asks, the slippery fish caught in his fist. His face twists and when he looks up his eyes are blazing.

“Sure at least it’s not the whole thing,” Niall teases, throwing Louis’ words back at him and then instantly regrets it because Louis turns on him, excited gleam in his eye as he steps out from behind the table. 

Niall takes a step back and then another, coming up hard against something. Louis’ grin just widens and Niall glances quickly over his shoulder to see Zayn blocking the doorway, hair rumpled and still half asleep. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, eyes flicking between Niall’s anxious face and the fish in Louis’ fist. “Ah, you found your present.”

Harry giggles again and Niall knows he was in on it too. Niall wonders, wildly, for a moment if this is some sort of hazing but Zayn’s lips spread out into into a grin and it doesn’t look malicious, just devious so the thought disappears from his mind. 

“No,” Niall says and he isn’t even sure what he’s saying no to. Just the gleam in Louis’ eyes and whatever he’s planning. Louis just looks more excited. 

There isn’t enough time to escape when Louis pounces, laugh rattling out of his chest as he squeezes Niall between his and Zayn’s chests.

Niall has to gag again, the smell of the fish so much more stronger now that Louis’ pressed up against him. 

“Arrgh,” Niall yelps and tries to wriggle free. He gets half way out, Zayn laughing quietly behind him and Louis trying his best to squeeze the fish down the collar of his shirt. His arm gets caught by one of them and Niall feels breathless, the anxious laughter getting stuck in his throat. 

“No!” Harry wails and grabs his other wrist and Niall jerks between them, squeezing his eyes shut when he sees Louis lean in close to him again. 

Zayn lets go of his arm just long enough for Niall to escape, spinning round as far as he can with Harry tethered to his other arm. 

Liam’s grin gleams at him from across the table and he realises belatedly that Liam won’t be any help. Harry tugs him close and then he’s face down against the table before he knows it. 

“No, no, no,” Niall gasps between laughter. One of them is tickling him now, warm fingers pushing into the dips of his hips and across his ribs. His t-shirt is rucked up his back and he wishes that he had pulled on his jeans because he hadn’t expected to be bent over the kitchen table in just his boxers this morning. He feels a thrill run up his spine and he gasps into the tabletop, heart starting to pound. 

Louis snaps the waistband of his boxers and Niall’s skin goes hot. But then he remembers he has the remnants of a fish in his hand and he shudders again. 

“No, Louis,” Niall gasps. There has to be three hands on him now, making him wriggle against the Formica. “Please.”

“Say the magic words!” Louis orders but his voice lilts with his laughter. 

Niall can’t think straight. When he opens his eyes he can see Liam, eyes crinkled up as he laughs and Harry’s hands are creeping down his side. Louis’ fingers are still tucked into his waistband, hot at the dip of his spine and Zayn is laughing quietly on his other side, his hands creeping up to the ticklish spot at the back of his neck. 

He feels good, belly sore from laughing and head buoyed up with having them all around him. There’s panic in his belly but it fizzles across his skin, like that jittery feeling Niall always gets when he’s playing hide and seek. It sort of makes him feel sick, but in the most exciting way.

“What do you think boys?” Louis asks, breathless against his back. Niall wants to groan but he clamps his mouth shut, teeth digging into his bottom lip.

Louis leans back and Niall’s heart calms down a beat, body reacting to him leaving him alone. And then his waistband snaps again and there’s something cold and slimey sliding across his arse cheek. 

“Fu-u-uck!” Niall cries out, jerking up hard enough that the hands disappear from his back. Harry’s tipped over into the cushions laughing and Liam’s nearly gone silent he’s laughing that hard. Louis looks half shocked, like he can’t believe he actually had the balls to do it and Zayn’s got both his hands slapped to his mouth, cheeks growing pink under his fingertips. 

Niall spins, hand going to his arse but that only presses the coldness to his skin more and he swears again, hopping onto the other foot. It’s freezing, the wet soaking into his boxers and they droop a bit with the weight. Niall cringes, hand pressing against his back again before he yanks his boxers open. 

“You didn’t!” Liam finally finds words.

“He fucking did!” Niall exclaims and tries to look over his shoulder. It only makes them all laugh harder and somewhere, deep down underneath all the freaking out, Niall’s pleased that he’s able to make them laugh. 

“I didn’t!” Louis shouts through the loud laughter and he holds up his fist, fist head poking out of his hand. Niall falters for a moment and then he shoves his hand into his boxers to come out with a slice of lemon, cold and squished. It had felt so much bigger than a thin slice, like when his teeth feel so much bigger in his mouth when he runs his tongue over them. 

“You’re a dickhead,” Niall promises him, getting his hands on his shoulder. He’s supposed to be shoving him but it somehow turns into more of a hug. He wraps a hand around his chest, pulling him in instinctively. “A fucking dickhead.”

Louis looks so ridiculously pleased with himself when Niall pulls back that Niall can’t help but laugh, feeling inexplicably pleased too. 

*

“That bed not big enough for the four of you?” Niall asks sleepily when Harry presses up behind him. When Harry laughs, Niall can feel the hair at the back of his head ruffle and it makes Niall want to shiver, shaking him further out of his foggy sleep.

“Just fancied a cuddle,” Harry whispers, moulding himself up against Niall’s back. Niall snorts and rolls onto his back, shoulder pushing into Harry’s and they move clumsily until Niall’s facing him, Harry curled up with his head on the edge of Niall’s pillow.

“You want to cuddle every night,” Niall says but Harry just blinks slowly at him. He looks like always does, face smooth with tiredness and lips puffed up from kissing. Niall wonders what he’s had in his mouth this evening and then has to shake the image out of his head before he gets carried away with himself. There’s something tight behind his eyes though, as he shuffles closer to him, breathing steadily in and out.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees quietly and rolling his neck until his forehead is pressed against Niall’s and he can wiggle a knee between Niall’s thighs. 

Niall lets him, all the air contracting in his lungs until it doesn’t want to come out of his nose properly. He can smell the scent of sex off him this close, the tangy hint of sweat. Harry’s skin is hot, the clammy heat from earlier catching at the back of his knee when he hitches his leg through Niall’s.

“You ok?” Niall asks when he gathers enough breath again. He can hear the tension in his own voice but Harry doesn’t comment on it, just squirms closer until Niall can slip his hand over his hip bone to sweep up his back. His back is hot too, heart hammering underneath his ribs and skin sticky-warm. 

Harry makes a quiet noise and Niall, for a sleep addled moment thinks that it doesn’t sound human but when he blinks his eyes, Harry just peers back at him. 

“Just miss home, I think,” Harry finally whispers. He noses closer, rubbing against the bridge of Niall’s nose. His stomach does that swoopy thing again, twisting at the mere thought of just pushing forward to kiss Harry, to feel the swell of his lip against his own. 

“And where’s home?” Niall asks quietly, swallowing down some of the fluttery nerves in his chest. Harry hums, leaning back into the palm of Niall’s hand. Niall sweeps it in another circle across Harry’s back and matches his breathing to Harry’s, a slow in and out that has them pressed chest to chest.

“All over really,” Harry tells him a little while later, his voice still holding the quietness of a hum. Niall’s nearly dropping off again, the rhythm of his hand making him feel drowsy just as much as Harry should be. Niall feels himself frown as he registers the words but Harry continues before he can say anything. “It’s more my sister. I miss her.”

Niall nods, face brushing up against Harry’s. He can feel the damp of his lips for a moment but he’s too tired to really react, too sleep-slow to freeze up.

“I haven’t seen her in a while,” Harry mutters, voice turning melancholy. “The ocean makes me feel closer to her -” He pauses and tilts further into Niall’s arms. Niall can feel the flat of his belly and how the waistband of his boxers are slipping to expose more hot skin. It’s not that Harry’s hard, but Niall likes the press of him against his thigh and finds himself tilting his hips up to meet him. Harry presses back instinctively.

Niall lets out a sigh and Harry hums again, Niall feels lightheaded. Somewhere in the back of his mind he should be worried that he’s taken to intimately cuddling one of his boatmates, while the rest of his boyfriends are conked out in the next room but Harry runs a hand through the short hair at the nape of his neck and everything filters out of his mind.

“But it just makes me miss her,” he whispers into Niall’s ear, lips dragging down the shell of it. It feels like Harry is all around him, in front and behind, hands on his sides and voice running through his ears right into his blood. “She’d like you,” Harry continues. “She’d see how happy you make me. She’d want you to come home with me.” 

Harry starts humming again, something slow and soft. It starts to lull Niall to sleep and he lets his eyes close, sinking into the raspy rumble of Harry’s chest as he hums. It sounds like it should have words though, a winding story to match the hum.

“What is it?” Niall asks, voice sluggish because he’s so close to sleep.

“Just an old forebitter my sister used to sing,” Harry whispers. “It’s a sad one though.”

Niall nods, Harry’s hair tickling his nose. “Tell me it.” Niall shouldn’t ask, Harry’s long winded stories normally don’t go anywhere interesting in the end but his voice is relaxing like this; where Niall can feel the words forming in his chest before he speaks them. It makes him drowsy, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

“It’s about people who live under the sea.” Harry takes a shaky breath and tightens his hold around Niall’s middle. Niall can feel the turn of his lips against his temple. “And the youngest gets lured away from his family. He goes on an adventure with his friend but his father wants him to come back, back to the big house amongst the rocks thousands and thousands of leagues under the sea, where everything is dark and green and cold. But the boy likes the sun, likes how it shimmers and makes everything sparkle through the water.”

Harry breaks off but Niall’s mind is already running away with him, turning into the hazy greens and blues of under the sea. He imagines the castles nestled between thick black rock and the glint of the sand below them. There are nameless creatures behind his eyes, faces he can’t make out, with pearls and pink shells, and webbed hands wrapped around tridents. Spears and the slice of a gill, a hiss through bared teeth. None of it makes sense but Harry keeps going, voice cutting through the swirl of colour behind his eyes. 

“He likes the warmth of it on his skin and he likes the air above the surface. How it’s clear and sharp and fresh. He likes the mystery of the land and the people he meets.” Harry takes another deep breath, voice dropping lower. “He falls in love.”

“His family want him back,” Harry whispers. “They try and fight to get him. He gets caught in a net, tangled in a mess and they try to drag him back under the ocean but he can’t go, he can’t leave the land behind. And sometimes he misses them and the ocean and the whole magical world of below the sea but he can’t live without his love.”

Harry cuts off, voice gone tight and Niall gathers him up into his arms tighter, eyelids too heavy to open to see his expression. Harry hugs back, face dipping into the hollow between Niall’s ear and shoulder and Niall wonders if he’s imagining the wetness against his skin there. He gets distracted when Harry starts to hum again, soft and drowsy and Niall listens to him, sinking further into the dark behind his eyelids.

“I wish I could show you her,” Harry says a long moment later, when Niall’s so close to sleep that it feels far away, washed under a wave of his own. “I wish I didn’t have to lie to you anymore.”

And then Harry kisses him, once on his forehead before he tucks himself in beside him. Niall feels drunk and warm, pressed up tight against Harry’s hot skin and he can’t speak, can just about manage the slow in and out breathing against Harry’s skin.

*

When Niall wakes up, it’s with a start. A whoosh of breath that burns down his throat and into his lungs. He’s sure he’s still under the sea, mouth and nose full of water with the feeling of drowning tugging at his belly. His feet had been lead, uncooperating in the water while he clawed above him to reach the surface, the glimmer of sun just beyond reach. 

The others had been there, Harry close, kicking easily to stay afloat while the others bubbled and breathed easily underwater. He had twisted, arms spreading out to skim through the water. Seaweed had tangled around Louis’ ankle, tethering him to the abyss below them, a long line of it pulling Liam along behind him while Zayn stared at him, eyes bright white even through the murky water. None of them could help, out of arm’s reach as Niall choked and spluttered and sank down further. 

Niall gasps, blinking up at the ceiling before turning his head to see that Harry is still very much asleep beside him. He’s got his mouth open against the pillow, breathing audibly against it. His arm is clamped over Niall’s waist, keeping him tucked up tight to his front, anchoring him to the bed. It’s not a nightmare he’s had before, even with his initial anxiety about getting onto the boat and it unnerves him. Harry’s voice drifting through his dreams and the humming tune of his lullaby. 

“Morning,” Niall whispers instead, trying to rid his mind of all thoughts of his dream. He turns in Harry’s arms so he can be pressed front to front again. He remembers Harry’s voice, slow and calming from the night before, the lullaby sending him to sleep. 

Harry twitches, shoulder jerking before he rolls onto his back, eyes firmly shut. There’s shadows underneath them, as if someone had smudged a thumb of dark green paint just above his cheek. He seems paler, his skin clammy against Niall’s touch but he twitches again, eyebrows dipping into a frown that should make Niall grin. He can’t quite seem to get his mouth to move though, so he uses the opportunity to press his lips to underneath his jaw instead, just to feel the dull scruff against his skin before he rolls over him and out of the bed. 

Zayn’s stretched out on the bench beside the kitchen table when Niall gets there, he’s got his head buried in a book and his hand paused halfway to his mouth. 

“Healthy breakfast?” Niall asks when he sees the packet of Quavers in between his knees. Zayn smiles slightly and licks the salt off his finger, Niall has to drag his eyes away. 

“Liam’s not up to feed me yet,” Zayn answers and shuffles around a bit so he isn’t lying as prone as before. Niall nods and pours himself a glass of water, the tap squirting and spluttering under the pressure of the water. 

It tastes rank, nothing like the water he’s used to at home but it’s cold and it’s better than the dryness his dream left behind, washing away the clog at the back of his throat. He feels like he’s hungover, wrecked even though he’s just woken. 

“What are you doing up so early?” Zayn asks and Niall turns, catching the way the sun is barely up over the horizon out the window. He hadn’t realised it was barely dawn. 

“I had a bit of a weird dream,” Niall admits and pours himself another glass of murky water. He stares at it for a moment.

“Oh,” Zayn says behind him, shifting again so there’s enough room for Niall to sit beside him. Niall stays near the sink. 

“Yeah, I thought I was drowning and you were all there but you all seemed to be fine.” Niall gulps at the water. He can feel Zayn’s eyes on him. “And none of you helped me, um, not drown so it was a bit creepy.”

Zayn smiles at him, mouth a thin line so it doesn’t seem that happy. “Promise I won’t let you drown.”

Niall breaks into a smile and shuffles across the kitchen to sit in beside him. Zayn sets his book flat against the table, it looks old and tattered, hardback giving way to the brown binding underneath. There’s a picture imprinted in the dark blue cover, a swirl of glittery gold and it looks like a creature engulfed in waves, the lines running into each other. There’s a flick, a sharp point and to Niall it looks like a tail the longer he stares at it. It seems familiar but Niall doesn’t think he remembers ever reading it or seeing it before. 

When he blinks it glitters at the back of his eyelids. 

“How come you’re up early?” Niall asks, snapping his eyes open again. He had heard Louis complaining about having to go on the late watches yesterday. Zayn’s watching him carefully when he looks up, eyebrows knitting together. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Zayn sighs and leans back into the padded cushion of the bench. He splits the bag of crisps open and pushes them across the Formica to Niall and at the same time nudges the book away from them with his knuckles. Niall blinks up at him. “Had to send Louis back to bed. Liam doesn’t like waking up alone.”

Niall nods, hurt pinging sharply through him. 

“Do you think what I dreamt can be real?” Niall asks him quietly. 

“Like dreams coming true?” Zayn asks, mouth twitching up into a grin.

“No,” Niall says slowly. He isn’t one hundred percent sure what he means. “Just that there’s something out there, something else. The sea, it seems so -” Niall pauses because he isn’t sure what it seems. It seems so vast and deep that anything could be hiding underneath the surface. He closes his eyes and remembers the flash of red under the waves he seen the other day.

Zayn’s face stays blank and as much as Niall’s glad he isn’t laughing at him, a bit of emotion wouldn’t go amiss either. 

“Like all those fisherman tales?” Zayn asks quietly. Niall shrugs. 

“You’re fishermen, aren’t you?” Niall responds, just as quiet. 

Zayn doesn’t say anything, eyes boring into him until Niall feels uncomfortable under his scrutiny. He shifts in his seat and Zayn mirrors him, jostling his legs before clearing his throat and getting to his feet. 

“I better head up to the watch,” Zayn mutters and Niall stops him, reaching out without thinking to grab his wrist. Zayn freezes and Niall sucks in a breath. He wants to shudder as his fingers slip around Zayn’s bony wrist and he can’t help but compare it to Harry’s, skin hot and clammy under Niall’s palm. 

Zayn stares at him and he looms a bit now that he’s standing and Niall’s still sunken into the bench. Niall swallows, something tightening in his chest as he meets Zayn’s eyes. 

“I can do it.” Niall is finally able to manage. “My head is too buzzy to go back to sleep.”

Zayn’s lips stay closed but he nods once to agree and slides out the other side of the table when Niall finally unlatches his fingers from his wrist. He glances at him one last time before he slips out the door. 

Niall sits for a moment and it’s only when he’s finished his water and set the glass down onto the table that he realises Zayn had made it away with the book under his arm.

The water is calm at this time of the morning and Niall watches it through the grimy windows of the navigation room. It’s cooler here than in the kitchen and the jumper over the back of the chair smells like Louis when he pulls it on, musky and sweet at the same time. The wrists droop down over his his hands and it’s easy to ball the extra material into his fist. 

“Zayn said you had a bad dream,” Louis announces himself an hour later. Niall jumps, pulled sharply out of his thoughts as Louis comes to stand beside him.

“It’s not that bad,” Niall says and tries to get his head around the fact that Zayn told Louis and probably Liam too. He’s strangely pleased that they’re concerned about him, even if it is a bit embarrassing. Louis’ eyes flit over him and Niall remembers with a flush that he’s wearing his jumper. “Just weird.”

“Cabin fever,” Louis says. He’s trying to sound funny, faux wise to make him smile but there’s something that doesn’t quite work and his tone falls flat. Niall appreciates it but it only makes something niggle in him further because now instead of them being concerned about his dream, Niall gets the distinct impression that Zayn told him for a completely different reason. Niall doesn’t like the paranoia crawling into his thoughts so he shakes himself and stands up. 

“We nearly ready to get to work?” 

Louis looks a bit startled at his change in conversation but nods all the same. “Yeah,” he says. “Didn’t know you were such a work horse when you first came for the job.”

He’s an inch taller and doesn’t sway with the rock of the boat. Niall’s step still falters a bit as he troops down the corridor to change into jeans, Louis shadowing him closely. 

He tries to forget about it when they get out on deck, ignoring the way they watch him out of the corner of his eye as he ties the knots on the doors on the dredger. Harry smiles at him in a way that makes heat ignite in the pit of his belly but when he spins to pull on the chain to the cabin Louis’ narrow scrutinising looks rains on any fire there. 

“Ready?” Louis yells from his spot behind the hydraulics station. Niall lifts his hand to wave at him, muscles aching already after a few hours work. The drone pitches higher, metal scraping against metal loud enough to drown out the caw of the seagulls circling above them. 

The boat rocks as it hefts the nets up and Niall grips the railing as the chain clanks. He watches as it slugs out of the sea, water dripping and rolling off it as it cranks up through the air. 

“Ready!” Louis yells again and Niall can see the start of the wooden apparatus. Harry’s standing further down deck, one hand out to the railing as well but he’s looking off into the horizon, not at the fruits of his labour below. 

The net purges water as it hoists through the air, sloshing and spraying around them. Niall gets some on his face but he blinks through it as he stares at the net. 

“Aw, fuck!” he hears Harry swear further down the boat, wind carrying it up to him as if he was standing at his elbow. 

“Did you forget to put the bait in?” Zayn demands over the intercom but Niall hardly listens to him or to Harry who starts shouting back towards the cabin. 

(“Of course I did!”

“What the fuck happened then?”)

Niall isn’t sure but Louis hauls the nets over onto the deck and releases them like normal. The thwack of them against the wood isn’t as loud as before and it just highlights how light they are, the net empty except for a few large, silver, flopping fish and a few handfuls of prawns. 

“Well this is hardly going to buy us dinner,” Harry complains and pulls on his gloves again, diving in to untie the knots at the side of the net. Niall follows suit. He’s never seen the nets this empty since he began his stint on the boat and he can tell that it isn’t a good thing.

“We’ll just get more bait,” Liam’s voice ordered over the tannoy. “We’ll stick them all out again and catch more.”

“What if there’s nothing to catch?” Louis demands, coming out from his place underneath the awning to shout up towards the window. Niall can see Liam’s face through the grime, grim and determined. 

“There’s always fish in the sea,” Liam tells him and Niall thinks he’s doing a shit job at boosting their morale. Harry huffs from his spot on deck, the net dragged across his knees. 

“There’s no holes or anything,” he tells Niall. His hair is flattened to his forehead and he looks stroppy when he next looks up at him. “I spent all day fixing these yesterday, I know there’s no holes.”

“I know,” Niall agrees and empties his pocket of fish out onto the deck. There’s not any point descending the winding steps into the bowels of the boat to sort them. Harry spears a fish with his knife, blood spattering over the wooden slats as he gets to setting up a new bait bag. 

“We’ll get them next time,” he says optimistically and Niall smiles tightly at him, setting to work by tying up the knots again so they can shift the net back over the side of the boat. There’s one that’s tangled and Niall takes a hook to it, fitting it into the tight knot of net. It feels good to work like this, he can feel the adrenaline rolling off him, loosening his shoulders with every twist of his arm. He digs his way through it, twisting the hook until the twine starts to feel looser, more workable with the sharp end.

Niall wrenches his hand away from the chain, pain zinging up his arm. 

“You ok?” Harry calls and Niall doesn’t know how he’s seen before Niall’s properly registered that he’s hurt himself. 

“Yeah,” Niall shouts back. It’s loud, the dredger rolling and rumbling below them and the crack of the chain on the net as Louis gets ready to lower it again. 

Louis glances over at him across the shally, eyebrows knitting together under the woollen rim of his hat. 

“You bleeding?” Louis finally asks over the roar.

Niall glances down, his glove is torn but the gash across his palm doesn’t look too deep. 

“It’s alright.” Niall tries to shake them off. He wants to suck on it, his gut telling him to lick over it but he just brings it to his mouth, nearly gagging on the stench of his gloves. 

“Aw, bro,” Louis snorts when he catches Niall’s face. “Go inside and get it cleaned up.”

Niall frowns but Harry gives him a thumbs up. His gloves look threadbare and it’s a wonder how Harry isn’t constantly injuring himself too. He’s sitting on his bum now, legs sprawled out in front of him as he works his way through a knot of his own.

Niall backs away from them and trudges up the steps to the navigation room. Liam’s waiting, first aid kit already under his arm. 

“Come on.” He grins at him. It’s only a cut, Niall feels his cheeks heating up when Liam slings an arm over his shoulder. 

“I’m fine,” he insists. Liam guides him down the corridor towards the kitchen and Niall lets his fingers skim the wall, his stinging palm cradled against his chest. 

“You love fishing that much?” Liam asks and when Niall glances round he can see Liam’s smirk. “Sit.”

Niall lets Liam push him into the bench and he shuffles along until Liam can fit in too, his knees pressing up against Niall’s thighs. Niall’s waterproofs are heavy and it’s hard to feel the warmth of Liam through them but he’s wearing soft trackies and he _looks_ warm. 

“You don’t need to cause a fuss, y’know?” Niall asks and his mouth is turning up into a grin. He can’t really help it, he wants to laugh at how serious Liam looks. 

Liam gives him a look, stern and curious from under the flop of his fringe. He takes hold of Niall’s wrist slowly, lowering it down so his knuckles brush against the Formica table top. 

Liam starts to hum under his breath halfway through pulling his glove off, pulling at the wool so none of it scrapes against the cut on Niall’s palm. It sounds familiar. 

“There we go,” Liam sing songs when he gets the wrist of the glove stretched over his palm. 

“You don’t have to baby me, you know,” Niall says very quietly. Liam’s hand pauses, hovering over his hand with a wipe. 

Liam glances up. “Is that what you think? That we’re babying you?” 

Niall shrugs. He can feel the heat at the back of his neck and his hand is stinging more, now that he has it stretched out on the table. Liam’s got his thumb pinned down, holding his hand open. 

“I don’t see anyone else coming in for a plaster when they get a scrape,” Niall mumbles. He avoids Liam’s eyes but he can still feel his gaze boring into him. 

“The others are -” Liam starts and Niall snorts before he can help himself. Liam narrows his eyes but he doesn’t look annoyed, concern softening his glare. 

“The others are what? More experienced? Can handle a gash to the palm? Aren’t freaked out by a stupid nightmare?” Niall asks. Liam presses down the antiseptic wipe and Niall winces, jerking his arm reflexively. Liam presses his thumb down harder. 

“No,” Liam stresses. “They don’t get a lollipop anymore so they stopped coming up.” 

Niall glances up. Liam’s smiling at him, eyes crinkling. Something unravels between Niall’s shoulders.

“They’d just get a kiss instead,” Niall blurts out before he can help himself. 

Liam stays silent and Niall feels a laugh bubble up through his chest. He tries to swallow it down but it slips out. 

“Sorry,” Niall apologises and stares at the jagged cut across his hand. It’s not deep, stopped bleeding already. 

“We don’t mean to baby you,” Liam says quietly a few moments later. He strokes his finger over Niall’s palm and it’s warm, soothing right next to the sharp sting in the middle of his hand. “Harry and Zayn, they -” he pauses and Niall tries to steady his breathing. Liam’s stroking at his wrist now, warm and tickly over his pulse point. 

“They don’t get hurt. As much of a klutz as Harry is sometimes, he’s got very resilient limbs.” Liam tears apart the wrapper of a plaster with his teeth. “And Louis, well he lives a charmed existence.” 

Niall nods, keeping his mouth tightly shut as Liam stretches the plaster over Niall’s palm. Liam laughs quietly before biting his lip and glancing up at Niall, holding his gaze for a moment. 

“Keep it dry,” Liam says suddenly, thumbing over the heel of his hand and back to his wrist. “It’ll be healed in no time.” 

“Thanks,” Niall replies quietly. Liam smiles at him and stands up. Niall’s hand feels oddly cool now. “Hey,” Niall says, grin coming to his face as Liam tidies up, chucking the wipes in the bin. “Where’s my lolly?” 

Liam turns around slowly, smile stretching across his face before he bends over the back of the bench and kisses him soundly on the lips. 

Niall lets him, feeling the cool, wet press of his tongue against his bottom lip and when he pulls away, tries to follow him. 

Liam just smiles though and backs out of the room, ducking his head slightly, pinking up at his temples. Niall licks over his lip.

“Get a new pair of gloves, sea bed isn’t going to dredge itself!”

 

*

It starts to get monotonous - the constant rock of the boat that sends Niall’s stomach into knots after breakfast, the lull of time while they dredge followed by the flurry of activity when they pull up the net that can last well into the next day. Niall’s hands are constantly freezing, seized with the cold and work. He stinks, the smell of the sea permeating into his skin until he scrubs himself raw in the shower before bed. 

That follows a routine too. Niall watches the radar until his eyelids start to droop and Zayn switches him out with a quiet smile and flush still working down his chest. Harry’s normally in bed already, stretched out against the wall and drooling over Niall’s pillow and if he’s not, he crawls in after him before dawn. 

Niall lies awake half the night, images of God knows what flickering across the back of his eyelids and Harry rolls into him, snuggling up tight to his back with the hum barely audible under his breath. Niall isn’t sure why he doesn’t tell him to stop because the humming only makes it worse, sparks the tiny flickers of dreams behind his eyes just before he drops off. He wonders if he likes it like that, likes that it’s helping him work out the questions in his head.

In quiet moments, Niall wonders how it works out. How the four of them come together and push each other to the limits, how they kiss and touch and sleep. He wonders how they split, Liam with his mother’s house close to shore and Zayn who stays in the boat. He wonders how they fit, Harry curling around Niall at night and trading off the night shifts. He thinks he should ask, the four of them growing close enough that Niall considers them friends but he's too scared, frightened that they'll stop showing him glimpses of the ramshackle relationship they've formed out on the sea. He likes it, the little snapshots of them together, how Louis curls his hand into the crook of Liam’s elbow sometimes and tucks his feet under Harry’s thigh when they’re lying on the sofas in the wheelhouse. How Zayn always offers Harry a taste of whatever he’s cooking and makes Liam tea when he gets up in the morning, just before he heads off to bed himself. He likes the looks they share and how they let him feel it sometimes, the crackle of them across the room - a promise for later. 

Niall tries not to dwell on it though, it makes his heart long to be even more involved and he doesn’t want to admit to himself that he wants to be plonked right in the middle of the four of them. 

The thought of it, though, gets him through the hard, gruelling days. When he’s soaked to the skin and his fingers are too cold to work properly, he tries to think of how Harry curls into him at night and how it would feel to be in the middle of a bed, the five of them breathing together, evening out as they fall asleep. He thinks that Zayn would make him tea, perfect, the way he likes it and press the mug into his hand with the quiet, secretive smile he gives all the rest. 

It settles in his stomach, the thought of Louis hugging him as they watch bad TV on Liam’s laptop, a hand scratching through his hair, and how maybe Liam would smile at them when he’s finished his map reading, maybe he’d flop down beside them and hem Niall in between them. 

Niall knows it’ll never happen but he clings onto the little fantasies in his head because it takes him away from the drone of the boat and the icy paranoia that they’re keeping something else from him. It makes him feel sick, something totally different to the queasy lurch of his stomach with every roll of the boat. 

The sea is particularly rocky today, white foam spraying up against the side of the boat and nearly over the side. It grows dark quicker than normal and Liam sends them all in for dinner early, the amount of fish in the nets growing thin again. It had been patchy over the past week and the rest of them were getting steadily more tetchy as they continued to fish. 

Niall’s back aches, the way his shoulders strain and tense as he puts all his weight behind his arms, hands tight around the end of the rope. Louis is at the other side, leaning back on his left foot as he keeps his weight too. 

It’s raining and Niall’s already soaked to the skin from the spray of the waves, water dripping down his nose and tickling at his lip. His hood’s useless but he keeps it up so the wind can’t batter at his ears as it howls around them. 

“Come on,” Liam hollers across the deck. He’s edging towards them, eyes fixed on where Harry’s pulling at the line overboard. Niall squints at him through the rain and then back at Louis who looks mildly pissed off - but that could be because of the weather. 

“We’ve worked in worse weather!” Harry yells back at him, barely looking over his shoulder. He’s still bent over the rail, arms extended out of sight. Niall keeps his grip on his own line, flicking his eyes up to try and catch Louis’ again. He doesn’t succeed though, Louis keeping his stare at the far end of the boat. 

“Harry!” Liam calls, something sharp in his tone. The wind picks up, drowning out whatever else he yells. The rope in Niall’s grip pulls taut, lurching Niall forward an inch, but he digs his heels in to stay standing. 

Harry turns round to face Liam and Niall can’t see his expression anymore, just the responding grimace Liam makes. 

“Inside,” Liam orders him and throws a hand up to point at the wheel room. Niall glances up automatically and catches sight of Zayn in the doorway, rain pelting down on him because he’s standing so far out on the step. 

Harry tenses his shoulders, Niall catching the stretch of them even through his thick coat, and then drops the rope, the end of it slithering off over the edge. 

“Harry,” Liam snaps but the wind howls again, long and droning. Niall’s hood whips back off his head and he has to close his eyes, rooting his feet to try and stay standing. 

“Come on!” comes Louis’ voice, suddenly so much closer than last time. He pushes a hand under Niall’s arm, wedging his fingers into Niall’s armpit and Niall lets him move him, dropping his end of the rope, buoy disappearing into the waves that are bashing up against the side of the boat now. 

It’s a struggle, Louis coming up behind him, hand a solid weight in the centre of his back as he pushes him up the steps into the wheelhouse. Liam’s feet are in front of him, the white sole of his Converses bright against the black of the steps. 

It’s muted inside, the wind only dulled slightly by the thick windows surrounding them. Niall sucks in a breath, the sound loud in his ears as it rattles into his throat. 

Harry’s already stripping out of his clothes, face like thunder, coat and boots flung into a corner and his jeans coming off with a wet slap, water soaked through his waterproofs to reach the denim. Niall’s only tugging off his coat when he realises what Harry’s doing, that he’s not heading for the shower or the kitchen like he normally does. 

“What was that out there?” Liam asks. He’s still standing in the middle of the room, breathing heavily. His hoodie has turned a dark grey, water leached into the material and soaked into his t-shirt underneath. His hair is flattened to his forehead and it just emphasises how he wasn’t supposed to be outside, the soft material of his trackies dank and heavy against his skin. He shakes his head, keeping his eye on Harry, before he drops heavily into the chair beside Zayn. 

Harry’s shoulders heave and he’s silent for a moment before he strides forward, breathing out loudly before he climbs into Liam’s lap. 

Liam squawks, settling his hands automatically on Harry’s hips but dodges where he’s trying to kiss him. 

“C’mon, Liam,” Harry groans and he sounds needy for a moment, hands desperately scrambling at Liam’s waistband. His voice is shot, gravelly and Niall tries to remember if he sounded like that before they went out onto deck earlier, before the storm. 

“Harry,” Liam warns, eyes darting over to where Niall’s staring, coat half off his shoulder, life vest ties loose in his hands. The wind knocks at the door and they sway a bit, noticeable with the rock of the waves. 

“Christ, Harry,” Zayn mutters and pushes his hands through his hair. He sounds groggy too, voice rough as if he hasn’t used it in days. “What’s got into you?” 

“What do you think’s got into me?” Harry asks, turning to stare at Zayn. Niall sinks into the wall, his jeans sticking to his thighs, heavy with rain and water. His toes are freezing too but he can see how Harry’s erupting in gooseflesh so stripping off wouldn’t help either. 

Zayn’s eyes darken and his mouth twists, eyes flicking up to meet Niall’s again. Niall doesn’t understand the emotion behind them. It’s even more bewildering.

“You shouldn’t,” Liam starts and then groans out of exasperation, dropping his head back to blink at the ceiling. “A storm is not what we need right now.” 

“When do you ever _want_ a storm?” Niall can’t help but ask. Louis glances over at him, lips hardly even moving into a smile and Zayn keeps an eyes on him too, mouth turning into a thin line. Their plain faces unsettle Niall. 

“Liam wants a storm,” Harry mutters and Niall can just make it out over the wind outside. He watches as Harry rolls his hips, Liam’s face twisting where he’s stretched out over the back of the chair. He still has his hands on Harry’s waist, fingertips pressed into the soft skin there. 

“Not now.” Liam shakes his head and Niall can’t work out whether he’s answering Harry’s spoken statement or his physical one. Harry rolls his hips again as if to prove a point. Liam lets out a breath like he’s been punched in the gut. 

“It wasn’t me who started it,” Harry keeps going and Zayn inhales sharply through his nose. 

“Leave it, Harry,” he comments and stands up, hand going into his fringe again to tug on it. Harry reaches out and grabs for Zayn’s free hand, fingers circling around it to pull Zayn to a stop. 

“You know it was her,” he mumbles and Niall finally sinks into his seat, wondering if he hit his head out on deck. He has no idea what they’re talking about. 

Zayn stares at him for a minute, eyes narrowing and he looks paler in the harsh light from the ceiling, washed out like a photograph with too much flash. 

“She wants to speak to you,” Harry implores, voice turning desperate again. 

Louis huffs out a sigh and smoothes a hand over Harry's hair, raking it back so Niall can see his forehead. He looks nearly green. Harry’s head goes easily, neck stretching out, eyes still locked with Zayn.

"You know how I feel about it," Zayn finally says and manages to rip his wrist from Harry’s grip. He looks shaky, fingers quaking as he wraps them around his mug, tea long gone cold. Liam sighs and meets Louis' eye over Harry‘s shoulder. It's like they're having a silent conversation again. Niall's completely lost so he glances around at them, taking in each of their appearances, the way Louis looks dishevelled, and how wide Liam’s eyes are going as he starts to panic. He skims over Harry’s naked back to see Zayn bite his lip.

"She's not going to drag you in again," Harry huffs and folds his arms over his chest. Louis tugs at his hair again and it makes him shudder, mouth turned down into a stubborn pout. "There's nothing you can really do about it anyway; if I don't storm, she will."

"What's going on?" Niall has to ask because they're all taking the prospect of a storm far too well. He supposes that they must be used to it, the weather outside hardly fazing them but Niall’s fingers itch at the thought of a storm worse than the wind already howling outside.

“It’s alright,” Liam answers distractedly, only glancing up briefly at Niall. “The sea is just a bit choppy, it’ll die down.” He pushes at Harry’s hips but Harry just settles himself better, knee coming up to press against Liam’s wet side. He reaches out and pulls Zayn’s hand into his own, fingers intertwining as Louis curls closer, hand moving down to press at his neck. Zayn keeps his eyes on Harry’s back, tracing over him with an unreadable expression on his face. 

The four of them look perfect together, lost in whatever they’re doing that Niall isn’t a part of. He hesitates for a moment on the edge of his seat before he stands up. None of them look up at him as he slips off easily. It only makes his stomach twist that none of them notice. 

His expression is shaken when he glances at it in the dirty mirror in the bathroom, skin ashen and pale. He still feels cold and his clothes slap onto the ground when he finally gets round to pulling them off. 

It’s hard to stand straight in the shower, the floor slippery with spray and the walls rotating around him but the steam feels nice, water hot against his back when he steps under the spray.

He pushes a hand up against the cold tiled wall and hopes it’s enough to steady himself as the boat lurches and rocks on the waves, a constant reminder of the brewing weather outside. 

It seems magnified, every roll and jolt ten times worse when he’s naked and slippery. His shoulders are still set, muscles tense all down his back. He keeps getting flashes of the other four of them together and he puts his annoyance down to the isolated feeling of not knowing what’s going on, not at the closeness of the others, he thinks he actually likes that bit. 

The water swirls down the plug hole, grimy and dark with dirt. There’s only the orange shower gel hanging off the hook of the shower, thick enough to wash away the stink of fish. Harry’s hair always smells of it, fruity and zingy but when Niall squeezes it into his palm it’s all too strong. 

He uses it anyway, soaping up over his arms and down his chest. If he closes his eyes he can nearly imagine it’s someone else, the familiar weight of someone pressed up against his back and an arm snaking around his waist, maybe to sneak a feel of his dick. 

Niall sighs out, curling his fingers around the head of his dick, feeling the swell up against his soapy palm. The shower is a weak pressure at his neck but the water sloshes down over his shoulders and back, pleasantly hot after being outside all day. 

At first it’s just swirls of colour on the back of his eyelids, the spiral of white and lime green but it morphs as he lets his mind wander, hand tightening around the head of his dick and twisting gently. 

The orange scent kick starts his memory and he bends at his belly, forearm sliding up the cool tiled wall so he can push his face into the crook of his elbow, mouthing at the skin there just to have something to do with his lips, savouring the soft feeling of skin under his tongue, even if it is his own. 

He can see him now, Harry, stretched out over Liam in the navigation room, boxers, tight and black, his firm buttocks stretching out the material, his arse round and perfect and Niall wonders what it would be like to bite at it, pull away the cotton of his underwear with his teeth and sink his mouth into the flesh of his arse. Wonders what it would be like to be the one stretched out over Liam’s knees, sitting in his lap where he can rock down into him, arse flexing over his dick and the way Liam’s fingertips would dip into the crease of his hips. 

Niall grunts out, loud and breathless. It muffles a bit in his arm but it makes him open his mouth, jaw dropping as he loses the concentration to even suck on his own arm. 

It’s zinging up his spine, tiny sparks of heat and tingling pleasure working their way over his skin until everything feels tight, his mind narrowing down to the contraction in his arms, the tightening of muscles as he pulls his fist over his dick again and again. He doesn’t have to worry about the kerfuffle outside, the only thing that’s important now is the wet slide of his hand. 

Louis would push him against the tiles, if her were here. Push him up against the wall until Niall’s cheek would touch the freezing tile, sliding across them with every press of Louis’ body against his back. He would trail his hands down over his back, the sensitive skin around the back of his hips until he reached his arse, maybe dip his fingers into the cleft of his arse with a teasing laugh before he would drop to his knees. 

Niall’s knees threaten to buckle and he moans again, helplessly desperate as he strips his dick and his thighs shake, just at the thought of Louis behind him, water sloshing over his head and spraying over his chest, plastering his fringe to his forehead as he pried Niall apart. 

He’d huff a laugh against his arse, bite at the flesh of it and ghost his breath over his hole. Water would drip down between his cheeks, shivery and warm before Louis would push in with his nose and lick at him with his tongue, hot and gentle and quick in a way that water could never be. 

He’d have to bring up a hand to steady him, cup around his hip to pull him back so Zayn would have enough room to fit between the wall and Niall’s waist. He’s not sure how it would work but that doesn’t matter because he’d look up at him, chest slick from the shower, water catching on his eyelashes before he’d suck at where he’s dripping, lick around Niall’s fingers and suck him down. 

Liam would maybe kiss him, tongue hot against his mouth and Harry would whisper something dirty into his ear, teeth grazing on his earlobe as he sucks it into his mouth. 

_“Come for us, Niall, c’mon.”_

Niall comes with a long moan, cutting off into a loud whine as it rocks through him. He stays pressed against the tiles, his hand clenching around his dick reflexively and he tries to hold onto the lingering remnants of his fantasy for a second longer, the shock of coming so hard still jolting through him. 

“Oi!” comes Louis’ cheeky shout and then there’s a bang on the wall. Niall’s back straightens and he staggers back to the opposite wall of the shower, head going gluggy as he falls back under the spray. “No wanking in the shower! There’s a perfectly good bed out here for that, you know!” 

Niall can nearly see the grin in Louis’ voice; it would be the same dirty smirk he would use before he’d drop to his knees. Niall’s thighs tremble and he stares hard at the handle on the door, wary that Louis could actually find some way of picking the lock. 

“Perfectly good audience too!” someone shouts, but Niall can’t make out who it is, the rain of water drowning it out. Louis answers with a cackle, loud enough to tell Niall that he’s still near the door, maybe waiting for Niall’s response. 

He doesn’t answer; the heat burning in his cheeks seems to have a lock on his throat and he turns into the spray of the shower, washing away the remnants of the come that’s smudged up his belly, as if that will make it better. 

He still feels hot and shivery when he gets out of the shower, water going cold enough that he can’t bear it. He gathers his clothes quietly and steps out of the bathroom, shivering as he steps into the corridor. 

He makes it the whole winding way to his room before he gets caught. 

“Anytime you fancy round two,” Louis says, popping out of the big bedroom that they all disappear into at night. Niall jumps, clutching his towel to his groin and going red. 

Louis laughs loudly again, grin just as wicked and lewd as in Niall’s dreams but there’s something tight around his eyes, giving him away. The boat rocks and Niall’s reminded sharply of the conversation they were all having half an hour ago. Louis’ smile falters slightly, showing that he hasn’t forgotten either. 

“Come on,” Louis announces and slings an arm over Niall’s shoulder, he’s still a bit damp from being outside but he’s warm at least. “Today’s finally the day you get to taste Zayn’s fish stew. It’s been a long time coming.”

They’re all smiling when Niall gathers enough clothes to be presentable and makes it to the kitchen. Harry’s wrapped in a blanket in the middle of the bench, a fork already in his hand as Zayn works away at the stove. Louis slips in beside him, patting the edge of the sofa for Niall to sit at. Liam smiles at him over a jug of water in the middle of the table. 

It’s worse though, the fact that they’re barely talking. It’s too quiet and it emphasises the lurch of the boat, the groans of the steel and splash of water. It makes Niall feel queasy again and he had thought he had gotten over his seasickness days ago. He swallows down the saliva pooling in his mouth and accepts his bowl of stew from Zayn with a quiet thanks. They all watch him and Niall feels an unexpected zing of nerves roll through him as he picks up a fork from the centre of the table. 

The spice explodes across his tongue and catches at the back of his throat. It makes his eyes water and he can’t help it but he has to lean away from the table to cough. He’s still coughing when they start to laugh, Zayn’s eyes crinkling as he takes the final seat opposite him. 

“I like spice.” He shrugs and holds his spoon in the air for a moment, waiting for Niall to catch his breath. It takes him a moment and a long pull of his beer before he’s able to quieten down. 

“It’s to mask the flavour of fish,” Louis snipes and Zayn gives him a playful roll of the eyes.

“To the replenishing prawn stocks,” Zayn toasts. “And the storm that’s coming and the beginning of fish stew week!”

“To fish stew week!” The rest of the boys cry and Niall feels his mouth split into a grin. It’s one of the things he loves most; the way they are mind-fuck confusing one moment and then totally adorably lovely the next. 

“It takes a bit of getting used to,” Liam stage whispers to him when everyone else tucks in. Niall feels like he needs to psych himself up for another mouthful. Zayn grins wickedly across the table from him, passing him a slice of warm naan.

“It’s good for you,” Zayn defends his cooking as Niall swallows another bite. It’s good, warm and hearty and perfect after being on the freezing deck all day. “Just not five days in a row.”

Liam chuckles beside him, shoulder jostling against Niall’s and finally he feels himself start to relax. It feels a bit put on, the other four trying their best to act as normal as possible, as if family fun around the dinner table is going to make Niall forget how odd they were acting earlier. But it’s nice, so Niall goes along with it, accepting another beer Louis passes him and taking seconds of the stews just to see how Zayn’s eyes crinkle when he ladles it out for him.

Harry stays quiet most of the night, eyes drooping quietly as he made his way through a few drinks. He’s still wrapped in the blanket but one side’s slipped over his shoulder, showing off an expanse of shoulder and the fact that he’s still naked under there. 

“We should tell stories,” Harry finally pipes up, eyes brightening as he looks around them all. Niall leans back into the cushions, half empty beer in the crook of his knee. Zayn’s ankles are on either side of his foot underneath the table and he had been half way through a story about the merits of dulse that Niall was only half listening to. 

“I already am.” Zayn pointed out. “I’m giving Niall tips in case he ever finds himself stranded on a desert island.”

“Niall doesn’t care about that,” Harry says, tone irritated. Zayn pulls a face and Niall feels briefly guilty that he hadn’t really been listening. 

“In the middle of the Irish sea?” Louis asks to diffuse any tension building and his mouth is already twisting into a laugh. “What desert islands is he going to find away out here?” 

“He’s on adventure.” Zayn shrugs and Louis laughs at his lame excuse. Niall grins though.

“Could happen, couldn’t it though, like all them stories of islands full of apples and other mad shit. Maybe I could get lucky and find one with sunny weather for once?” Niall asks. “I bet St. Brendan didn’t get a suntan with all his island hopping.”

He snorts to himself, thinking over the stories he was taught in school. They had even done a play once, Niall had to pretend to be a tree.

The others are quiet though and when he looks up Zayn’s biting his lip again. Liam looks like he’s trying to figure out what to say but Harry looks gleeful, something burning in his eye.

“You know a lot about that, Niall?” he asks slowly and the atmosphere in the room shifts. He’s hyper aware of four sets of eyes on him and the unspoken conversations that he’s been trying to decipher the past few days. 

“About what?” Niall asks slowly aware that Liam’s face is getting more and more closed off. 

“Getting a suntan?” Louis asks lightly. “I think Niall used to slapping on the Factor 50.” 

Niall ignores his change of subject. So does Harry. 

“All those folk tales,” Harry explains and Niall blinks, the embossed cover of Zayn’s book flashing on the back of his eyelids. It feels like it’s on the tip of his tongue.

“Everyone knows them,” Niall says quietly and shrugs it off. Zayn’s eyes have flickered over to watch Harry now. “Drummed into you as a kid, isn’t it?” 

“I like the one about -” Harry starts but Liam stands up abruptly, table lifting up with him. Niall jumps a bit at the force of it. 

“Nearly bed time isn’t it?” he asks, voice tight as he gathers up the bottles on the table. Louis slowly unfurls himself from his spot and goes to help him, lifting the plates over to the sink. 

Harry looks put out, mouth turning down before he tries to get Niall’s attention again. 

“I’ll take the night shift,” Liam says sternly and he’s pulling rank again, something lingering in his voice that makes Harry wilt back into the cushioned back of the bench. His eyes are still ablaze though and Niall knows he isn’t particularly happy about it. He pulls the blanket tighter around his chest.

“I’m ok to do it,” Niall responds to him, dragging his eyes away from Harry. 

“You had a busy day.” Liam shakes his head and reaches for his radio with a sigh. “I’m going to stay up for a little while longer anyway.”

“You’ll be begging for more sleep when we start fishing after the storm,” Louis promises him with a smile. He leans in, hugging him tight and it’s the first time they’ve done that, had a hug goodnight. Zayn smiles at him over Louis’ shoulder before he turns to the sink.

“Night, Niall,” Harry says quietly from where he’s still sitting at the table. Niall smiles back at him before turning towards the door, feeling like he’s five year olds and being sent to bed before supper. 

*

"How come you're sleeping in here?" Niall asks groggily later when he sees it's Louis stripping at the side of the bunks and not Harry.

Louis' mouth turns up at the corners and he pulls off his jumper, landing it with a dirty splat in the corner of the room. He shrugs out of his undershirt too and Niall sees that he's just as tattooed underneath as Harry is, words creeping over his sternum and down his arms. Niall wonders what they mean and who done them. 

"Harry wanted Zayn all to himself, he gets clingy when he sleeps," Louis tells him but it isn't really an answer. Niall curls the blanket around his wrist and thinks about telling Louis that he knows that already, that Harry clings to him in his sleep too. Louis smiles as if he already knows though and Niall tucks the secret back down inside, keeps it for himself.

Louis keeps his eye line as he kicks off his trousers and Niall can't look away either, magnetically drawn to him until his eyes feel stingy and sore from not blinking. He watches as Louis’ hand skims over the waistband of his boxers before he drops them too. 

Niall swallows and tries not to look, eyes skittering down over Louis’ stomach to catch a glimpse before he snaps them back up to Louis’ eyes. He’s grinning again and Niall feels hot all over, the blanket scratching over the skin stretched over his shoulders. 

“You gonna let me in?” Louis asks and Niall’s belly turns over. “It’s a bit nippy out here.” 

Niall laughs and scootches back so his bum hits off the wall. It’s cold when he lifts up the blanket but Louis tumbles into the bed quickly, toes pressed to his shins. He’s completely naked and pushes up against him as if he’s not. 

“There’s a good bunk below me, you know?” Niall whispers and Louis grins through the dim at him, tipping his head closer. 

“That bunk doesn’t have you, though, does it?” 

He settles against him comfortably, a hand slipping over Niall’s hip and resting behind his back. Niall’s shirt has ridden up a bit and if he were to roll back an inch, the heel of Louis’ hand would touch against his hot skin. 

“Is there -” Niall starts but stops again. He swallows down the thrum of panic and presses on quietly. “Is there something that you aren’t telling me?” 

Louis freezes beside him, limbs going rigid and Niall wants to swallow up his words, cut off his tongue so he never has to speak again. He’s out of his depth around Louis and now he’s gone and stuck his foot in it when he’s cuddled up close to him. 

“Of course not,” Louis says, voice uncharacteristically soft. “It’s going to be a rough night, just didn’t think you’d want to be left alone.” 

Niall stays quiet and Louis skims his hand up his back. It takes a moment, movements clumsy before Niall catches on that it’s supposed to be comforting. 

He shifts back into Louis’ chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through the layer of his t-shirt. 

“This -” Louis says quietly a few moments later, just when Niall was about to drop back to sleep. “This thing between us all -”

“It’s alright, Lou,” Niall says quietly. He’s too tired to concentrate on what Louis’ trying to confess to him. He doesn’t want to hear about how lovely the unusual relationship they all have is, about the bit he’s not supposed to be privy to. 

Louis’ lips turn up against the skin at Niall’s temple and he gives his side one final slow stroke before he settles his palm at the small of his back and goes to sleep. 

*

Louis’ not there when he wakes up and Niall wonders for a moment if it was all a dream. 

The smile he receives when Niall makes it to the kitchen tells him he didn’t imagine it though. Niall smiles back, cheeks heating up as he flicks the kettle on. 

He wanders into the wheel house once he’s made his tea, bringing a packet of biscuits with him for the others. 

Liam’s frowning over the table. He’s got a scarf on, wrapped tight around his neck as Zayn smokes out the window, dark circles under both of their eyes that make Niall wonder if they got any sleep at all.

“I think we should go back,” he says, blowing the smoke out of his mouth, bottom lip pushed out. He’s already said this twice since Niall’s been sitting in beside them and Liam stopped listening to his advice long ago, turning to talk to himself instead. 

“If we head up here,” he murmurs and skims his thumb over the screen of his map, thumb smearing over the blinking arrows. Zayn had showed it to him earlier, a square screen with the arrows changing colour with the severity of the wind. Liam’s fingers tap over the ones that are red. “And move here.”

“At least find somewhere to wait out the worst of it,” Zayn mutters and stubs out the last of his cigarette. He looks peaky, skin sallow and pale. His lips are red though and he licks at them before he starts ruffling through his jacket again, finding his box of cigarettes. 

Niall’s starting to understand the working relationship between them now. If Zayn was to stand up right now and head outside to smoke, he knows that Liam would grab his wrist and bring him back. Even though he isn’t listening to Zayn’s advice, there’s reassurance that he’s there. Zayn’s thumb lingers nervously over the flint of his lighter. 

“You want one, bro?” Zayn asks and Niall startles, realising he’s been caught staring. Zayn’s fingers are long and thin, trembling slightly over the flick of his lighter. He’s got a cigarette in his other hand, the end of it caught between the vice of his yellowing fingers. 

Zayn’s smirking when Niall glances up to see his face and something knots together in Niall’s chest. 

“Want to come over here and see the size of the storm we’re heading in to?” Zayn asks and his smile is turning down now. 

“Stop it, Zayn,” Liam urges him without looking up. He taps something into a calculator and frowns. 

“Come on,” Zayn sighs. “Niall, convince him to turn back. We can get behind a nice island or jut of land and hide away from the wind for the night.” 

“You know we’d just be putting off the inevitable,” Liam starts and he finally glances up, catching Zayn’s eye with a warning glance. Niall hasn’t the foggiest what’s going on. He thought that they might have stopped talking in riddles by the time he got up. It doesn’t look too stormy outside now, sky grey but clear. 

“Where’s Harry?” Zayn asks and it seems like an abrupt leave of conversation but Niall knows him better now than to think that it doesn’t have something to do with it all. 

“You could do it,” Liam murmurs and Zayn’s face suddenly turns dark for a moment, something twisting in the way he glares at Liam. Liam doesn’t look fazed but Niall feels a chill go through him. When he blinks, Zayn’s face has smoothed back out to what it was, perfect cheekbones and the swath of hair that’s drooping over his forehead. He raises his eyebrows at him and Niall can only raise his back. 

“Harry!” Zayn yells. There’s a clatter behind them before Harry comes into the room. He’s not wearing a shirt and Niall stares at the inky marks that twist around his ribs and chest. He can see them better in this light, not in the dim of their bedroom at bedtime, but they don’t look the same as he remembers and even now, every time he blinks he could swear they move. 

“You rang, my darling?” Harry asks and collapses into the sofa beside Zayn. He pulls a face when he snuggles in close and Zayn puts out his cigarette, flicking it out the window. He leaves it open and Niall wonders if Harry ever gets cold. Niall pulls his jacket closer to his chest and watches as Harry drapes himself over Zayn’s lap.

“What do you think we should do?” Zayn asks, dodging out of the way of Harry’s lips. Harry laughs brightly, edging closer so he’s following Zayn’s mouth with his own. Niall’s reminded of the bobbing dog at the back of his mam’s car. 

“Head straight for it,” Harry says, voice rising higher. “So we can be the eye of the storm.” 

Niall shivers, the roll of tingles shooting up his spine. He doesn’t think anyone’s noticed, Liam’s still engrossed in his mapping and Zayn has Harry’s full attention on his lips. 

“We already sort of are, aren’t we Zayn?” Harry asks and he shifts, pressing his chest right up against Zayn, kneeing over his thigh so he can settle against him. Niall can see the expanse of his back, white and pale, spine roiling below his skin. When he blinks Niall thinks he sees Harry’s muscles shift, contorting along his back but when he looks again it’s fine, Harry’s back seamless and smooth. 

Zayn sighs and settles his hands on Harry’s hips, his fingers long as they curl around his side. Niall can see the way Harry’s skin blanches at his fingertips and it makes his heart thump, watching Harry act like this in front of him. 

“Harry,” Louis intones from the doorway and Niall snaps his eyes away, just in time for Louis to catch him. “Stop putting on a show, go put some clothes on.” 

“Clothes are for losers,” Harry mutters but rolls off Zayn’s thigh all the same, sprawling out beside him instead, knees apart and giving Niall an eyeful of his groin. Zayn lights up another cigarette. “C’mon Liam, full steam ahead.”

“We chasing it?” Louis asks and there’s something in the tone of his voice that makes Niall glance up, Liam too. He sags into the sofa beside Niall and it’s nice to have him close again.

“She’s just going to follow us.” Liam sighs and drops his pen onto the table; it skitters across, spinning at the edge of the counter before tipping off the edge. Harry reclines back into the chair, looking pleased with himself while Louis and Zayn share a dark look. 

“I take it this is bad, then?” Niall asks quietly because he’s still a little bit lost.

Liam’s expression darkens for a moment as he shares a look with Zayn before he shakes his head and pastes a bright smile on his face. 

“Just a hiccup,” he tells Niall, voice calm and reassuring. 

“Shouldn’t we carry on fishing?” Niall asks, because it’s well into the morning now and usually they would be out loading up the equipment by this time. “Use the disruption to the water to our advantage?”

Liam smiles at him and Niall detects a hint of pride in it. 

“Think I’ll give you the day off,” Liam says and laughs, but it sounds hollow. “The storm won’t be long now.”

Harry laughs a bit, head lolling around on the back of the sofa. “Whatever you think best, Captain.”

He salutes him and Niall blinks away to look at the floor. Harry’s the only one who looks relaxed, calmness rolling off him in waves as he lounges on the sofa across from him. He looks rested, hair a messy disarray on the top of his head. There’s a mark just below his throat, turning a darker shade of pink than the rest of his chest and Niall wonders if Zayn put it there or maybe Liam when he came back from his watch.

Liam yawns, mouth opening wide as he tips back into his chair. He looks wrecked compared to Harry, bags settling under his eyes. 

“You should get some sleep,” Zayn murmurs, like he’s reading Niall’s mind. “You’ve been up all night.” 

“So have you,” Liam fires back but there’s no heat in it, voice low with exhaustion. 

Zayn stays quiet a moment, inhaling from his cigarette again before he flicks his eyes quickly to Harry. Harry grins at him, catching him in the act and Zayn’s eyes skitter away again.

“I’ll go with you,” Zayn finally mumbles and Harry lets out a bark of laughter. 

“And miss all the fun?” he asks. Louis rolls his eyes, turning into Niall a moment before climbing to his feet at the same time as Liam slides off the chair. 

Niall swallows past the lump in his throat as they stand up. 

Watching as Louis reaches over and tugs on Harry’s arm, pulling him up to follow them. For a moment Louis sways and Niall’s heart pounds, mind providing him with images of Louis reaching for his hand too, for Liam urging him into line with the others, with all of them leading him down the corridor and into their room. 

“Call me if you need anything,” Liam says quietly just before he leaves and Niall just about manages a nod before he’s left alone with the sea stretching out before him.

*

The windows in the navigation room are dirty, brown grit gathering in the corners. If the sun hits the glass just right, Niall can see the smears across them, the circles of where Liam or Louis has cleaned them last. They’ve done it with fairy liquid so they’re streaked with soapy residue that glows green and blue. It’s one of the reasons he stares at the light filtering in through glass for a long moment before he realises where the colour is really coming from. 

“Guys,” Niall calls, quietly at first and then again, more urgently, because there’s a purple fog creeping over the water, the last of the sun sending the sky lilac. 

“Lads!” Niall shouts. He’s up off his chair and he hovers for a moment, a brief pause of hesitancy. He’s never seen fog like this before, quick and creeping, skimming over the sea towards the boat. It’s surrounding them, coming at them from all sides and it’s shimmery, purple and white and strange. 

“Liam!” he finally yells and then there’s the sound of the door banging open from the back. 

“What?” he calls up the boat and Niall doesn’t know how to explain it, the creeping wisps of cloud that are getting closer and closer. The radar doesn’t show anything, the arrows flicking white and pale yellow, even though Niall can tell from looking outside that the wind is picking up, whipping through the fog once it gets close enough. 

Harry gets into the room first and he grins, eyes brightening up. Liam barrels into him a moment later, wrestling himself into his hoodie. "What is it?" he demands coming to look at the map. "Ice?"

“No," Niall breathes. The mist is moving, swirling with the wind in winding lilac circles, shimmering as the sun fights to shine through. "Look."

He stares out the window for a moment before his face hardens up. 

"Harry," he mutters, turning to him but he gets distracted by someone stumbling down the corridor.

"Oh fuck," Louis groans while Zayn gasps behind him, hand coming up to steady himself on Louis' shoulder.

“Ok,” he mutters and shuffles Harry out of the way. He stands in front of the window for a moment and Niall gapes at his back, taking in the way his shoulders have fallen. He looks resigned, not an ounce of panic showing on his face the same way it’s clawing up Niall’s throat. 

Harry looks delighted. He lets out a little ‘whoop’ of celebration before he wrenches the door to the outside open, letting in a gust of fresh, chilly air. 

“Harry!” Zayn yells after him but Harry’s already out the door, bare chest to the wind as he runs down the steps to the deck. Zayn goes after him, groaning a little and Louis at least pauses long enough to shove his feet into a pair of wellie boots before he launches out the door after them, yelling at Harry to stop. 

It’s gusty outside and Niall can hardly hear his own voice over the rise of the waves and the roar of his heart in his ears.

He follows Liam out onto deck, shivering at how cold it is and blinks through the spray to see where Harry’s gone to. The others are all over the side of the boat, Harry bent so far over that Niall's sure he's going to fall in.

"I think," Niall tries to yell over the wind but it just whips up fast, circling around the boat faster. It doesn't rock them, the sea calm below them as if they're in the eye of the storm. It's disorientating, Niall keeps expecting to lurch sideways, blow away with the wind. It doesn’t seem real. "I think -"

"It's ok!" Liam finally speaks to him; staggering across the steps of the deck to get to him, he wraps his hand around his wrist and tugs him closer. Niall roots his feet, digs his heels in because he isn't sure he wants to know what Harry's doing over there, or why Louis and Zayn are looking so apprehensive and excited at the same time.

"It's fine," Liam insists and tugs him closer. Niall goes with him this time, soles of his feet unsticking from the slimy wood. It’s hard to catch all of Liam’s words. “You were going to find out sooner or later.” 

There’s someone in the water and Niall lets out a choked gasp at the sight of her. 

She’s beautiful, with smooth skin that shimmers, light reflecting off the water against her face and back again. Her eyes are sharp, green pin points that Niall can see all the way from up on deck. Her hair is twisted around her neck and down over her torso, a darker green, thick like seaweed but smooth like grass. There’s something pinned to the back of her head, an elaborate gold clasp clawed around a deep, deep crimson veil. It looks velvety soft and disappears into the water behind her, spreading out just under the surface in a dark red train. 

"Well, well, well." The girl raises her eyebrows and Harry laughs, high and tinkling like his voice is slipping out to join the girl's on another wavelength. "Have you bought me a present, Harry?"

"No," Louis snaps and then his palm is closing in around Niall’s other wrist so he's anchored between him and Liam. "Stop trying to lure us all away."

She gives him a sardonic look. “Are you ever going to get over that?” she asks rhetorically, swivelling her gaze back over to Niall. It's odd, her eyes raking over Niall's face and torso. He sort of wants her to look, as strange as she may be. He wants to comb his hair and maybe he should’ve washed his face. His breathing’s picking up of its own accord, chest tightening and his head’s starting to feel too light on his shoulders, like it could float away. 

"Stop it, Gemma," Harry says this time and the girl’s eyes snap back to him, softening around the edges.

"Sorry, brother," she mumbles gently but doesn't sound sorry at all. Niall's head swims at the word brother. He wants to reach out and grip the railing of the boat and maybe climb over so he can see Gemma better, push his head against her hair and see if she's as cuddly as her brother. See if her skin is as soft or if she’s warm in the freezing water.

Liam makes a noise beside him and his hand tightens around Niall’s, fingers curling around where his pulse is thumping against his skin.

"Have you been stealing our prawn stocks?" Harry asks her suddenly and Gemma smiles ruefully.

"Had to get your attention somehow." She shrugs and the water laps around her shoulders, hair fanning out around them. Harry rolls his eyes but he has a sweet smile on his face.

"Could've called me," Harry says and his voice is lilting, rolling with the waves. Niall wants to drown in it. “Maybe got to the point and stopped all this dramatic storming. Zayn was about to get his knickers in a twist.” 

Zayn makes a noise but doesn’t say anything. 

"You missed mum’s birthday," Gemma accuses instead, ignoring Zayn’s protest. Niall can't take it all in. He needs to take a step back and leave the pair of them to squabble between themselves. They wouldn't be misplaced in Niall's own home, him and Greg arguing over silly things just like they are. Except Harry's turned a sick, pea green and he's talking to his sister who's shoulder deep in the middle of the Irish Sea.

Liam and Louis don't let go of him and when Niall takes a second step back they go with him. Zayn's rooted to the spot beside Harry, knuckles turning white where they're twisted in Harry's sleeve. Niall isn't sure whether it's for Harry's or his own benefit.

"This is a dream." Niall finally makes his mouth move. "I've hit my head on the rigging and I'll wake up and you'll all be human again. This is just like the others, I’ll think I’m drowning in a moment and then I’ll wake up and it’ll be time for breakfast."

"Technically, I _am_ human," Louis says brightly, offering him a rueful grin that does nothing to reassure him. Niall gapes. "We both are." Louis waves his free hand at Liam who smiles thinly at him before glancing back at the other two.

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Niall tells him and Louis at least looks sympathetic. Liam doesn’t comment though, his attention back on Harry. 

“Don’t I at least get a hug hello?” Gemma calls and Niall’s stomach rolls with dread even before he sees Harry move. He knows he’s going to climb in and seconds later Harry does just that, stripping out of his underwear and climbing up onto the rail.

“Harry,” Zayn cries, voice turning urgent all of a sudden. “Please, don’t. You don’t know what will happen. You don’t -”

“I know exactly where mine is,” Harry cuts him off. Liam looks frozen, mouth hanging open. “I’m not going to get swallowed up.”

“You won’t be able to swim,” Zayn tells him again. “It won’t work.” 

“Zayn,” Gemma cajoles, voice lilting again. It’s like water, running smooth and calming and Niall wants to step forward again, needs to see her as she speaks to Zayn in her calming tone. “You worry too much. Why don’t you come into the water too, and see?”

Zayn stays stock still, shoulders rounded off defensively and Niall can’t explain it, the urge to see what’s going to happen when Harry gets into the water conflicting with the need to have him here on the boat with him, far away from the waves and his sister. Harry gives Zayn one last look and Niall can see the whites of his eyes before he tumbles off the side. 

Niall cries out without realising it, stepping forward as if he could stop him and Louis’ grip on him pulls tight at his arm. 

Zayn’s jaw clenches and he sees the flash of it again, the dangerous cut of his cheekbones and then they hollow out, so it’s the pale of his eyes and the murky green of his skin. His teeth seem to elongate and Niall stares, eyes so wide he wonders if he could ever shut them again. 

His hands grip at the rails as he glares into the water. “Harry, get out of the water.”

“Zayn,” Liam warns and reaches out. The three of them go together, shuffling forward in a chain, Liam, then Niall, then Louis, so Liam can reach Zayn now. 

“Holy fuck,” Niall says, too shocked to keep the words inside his head. He balls his fingers into fists so hard they start to feel numb but it doesn’t register because he can’t stop _staring_.

Harry pushes up through the waves, water breaking around his shoulders as he shakes out his hair. He shuffles around his sister, curling into her as she hugs him, hand coming up to comb through his hair. It’s webbed, fine white lace spread between her fingers right up to her first knuckle. 

“Get out of the water,” Zayn says as loudly as he can but when Niall turns his head he sees the clench of his jaw, his bared teeth and the snarl he has on his face. It’s terrifying but it’s too much, too much to handle and Niall can’t really compute it properly.

“Harry,” Liam tries. He looks just as uneasy that Harry’s in the water. 

“Why don’t you come down and get me?” Harry asks and splashes about in the water. The wind whips around them faster but it’s like they’re in a bubble, a vacuum from the storm.

“You know I can’t!” Zayn shouts and then swears under his breath. “You can’t be either, you don’t have your cohuleen druith!”

Harry rolls his eyes and splashes back into the water. Gemma looks delighted and rolls over to dive below him, water sloshing up over her back. There’s a flicker of silver under the water, a shiny purple and blue. They play for a moment and Niall takes it in in stunned silence. 

“Look, Zayn,” Harry calls up when he’s rolled onto his back to float, sticking his leg out of the water, high into the air. He looks silly, contorted under the water like that but he laughs, face lighting up the sallows under his eyes and the sharpness of his brow. “Still a leg!” 

It’s not though, not in the proper sense. It’s still shaped like a leg, the bony knobble of his ankle and the jut of his knee but it’s starting to distort. The sole of his foot is a silvery purple, matching Gemma except it’s darker, more blues sweeping up over his ankle like thick strokes of colour, thick veins of violent violet snaking up his leg. 

“See, still leggy, for the moment anyway.” Harry laughs and flaps about. He has a hand cupped around the muscle of his calf and Niall can see the webbing spreading between his fingers, bright against where the purple is deepest, riveting his muscles in colour. It doesn’t creep up as far as Gemma’s seem to do. Harry flops back onto his back and when he lifts his leg again he brings the other one with it, holding them together until the purple and silver blend together.

“Cool, isn’t it Niall?” he calls up. He sounds gleeful but his face is turning into a scowl, whether he wants it to or not, nose pinking up in the middle of this face. 

“Oh, God,” Niall murmurs and finally takes a step back from the railing. His socks are soaked, toes numb but he stumbles far enough away that he can’t see Harry anymore, the Harry who’s turned a pale shade of green and whose legs are slowly turning glittery. Liam takes a step with him, hand up to the side, ghosting down his arm as if Niall’s about to keel over - Niall isn’t ruling that out. 

Zayn’s head turns and Niall catches the corner of his eye, milky white and stark against how Zayn’s skin is still steadily turning green as well. 

“I don’t think -” Niall says but it doesn’t seem to come out in proper English, slurring over the words as he gapes at Zayn. 

“Niall!” Harry’s voice floats up from the water but Niall shakes his head, he can’t go back to see what he wants. He can hear a humming, loud in his ears and he wants to close it off but it doesn’t diminish he manages to get a palm up to his ear. It’s making him feel disorientated, the hazy lilac sky spinning around him. 

“Get out before you shed your skin,” Louis finally snaps. Niall feels sick, Louis sounds too calm - like this has happened before. He’s talking about shedding _skin_!

“Where did Niall go?” Niall hears Harry ask and the change in tone noticeable. Niall can’t focus on it though, his head is swimming slightly and he’s not sure if he wants to dive off the boat or sink to the floor. He takes another step, slumping forward far enough that Liam has to hold him up. Liam stumbles to the side and Niall goes with him, head woozy and legs like lead. He feels drunk, deck spinning around him in a swirl of grey and lilac and it’s confusing, the prick of the sun and slosh of the water.

“Gemma, stop it,” Liam hisses and they’re back over near the railing now. Niall can see them both out of the corner of his eye, beautiful and haunting. Niall definitely wants to get into the water. He lurches forward, barrelling into the rail and it’s hard against his chest. It winds him, forces him to suck in a long breath that makes his head swoop and chest hurt. His legs won’t work but he’s ok here, the solidness of the rail keeping him in check as he sucks in quick, shallow breaths that hurt his chest and the back of his throat. It’s too quick and too cold to soothe the burning in his belly.

“For fuck’s sake,” Louis swears and clamps his arm around Niall’s bicep, trying to drag him back. Niall’s vision is zeroing in on Harry, mouth open, streaked red and green and wet. He wants to kiss him, let himself be dragged under by the current and listen to the song below the water. He wants water to fill up his lungs and his feet to pull him under. This time, unlike in all of his dreams, he won’t fight it, just drift down with them into the deep.

“ _Gemma!_ “ Liam’s voice scolds somewhere near to his left ear but Niall can’t concentrate. 

“It’s _not_ me,” Gemma retorts and she doesn’t look gentle and serene anymore, eyes narrowing and nose flaring. Her cheekbones jut out as she hollows her cheeks and she looks like Harry, terrifying and shocking and powerful. 

“It’s me,” Harry mutters and his face is falling, giving in to the ugly slump of his skin, frown pulling his eyebrows close together. “I thought maybe he’d want me -” He cuts off quickly. 

Niall doesn’t care about that anymore, he still wants to be under the water with him, the ugliness of Harry only making him seem more powerful. His body lists to the side, limbs too heavy to hold himself up again and Liam shoulders most of his weight. Zayn looks horrified beside them, looking between Harry and Niall agape. Niall wonders if Zayn would go like that, all purple and blues.

There’s a ripple of water, lapping around the smooth skin of Harry’s shoulders and the song is only getting louder, husky and beautiful. It swells inside him, breath catching in his throat until his chest feels tight, like something is sitting above him, like he’s one hundred knots under the sea. 

The wind picks up, buffeting him along the deck, like an invisible fist pushing him closer to the railing. Harry's face brightens when he comes into view again, grin growing across his face but Niall can’t focus on it properly, the music making his head spin again. If he were to push his shoulders forward he might be able to fall into the water. It would be cold, soothing to the burn in his gut. He knows that isn’t right, somewhere in the back of his mind but being with Harry and his sister would be better.

“Stop it,” Zayn hisses suddenly from his side and Niall swings around, Zayn’s voice cutting through the fog in his head. His face is patchy and growing green, eyes bright against the mottling emerald that’s spreading down his cheeks. His hair is changing too, growing out and looking softer. Niall wonders what it would feel like under his fingertips if he combed them through it, if it would tickle his nose when he hugged him and how it would look wet if he jumped overboard with him. 

“Zayn,” Niall manages. He lurches toward him, hand gripping at the front of Zayn’s jacket, fingers clenching around the lapel of it. It’s damp against his skin, cold where he’s overheating.

“Shit,” Zayn swears, hand coming up to circle around Niall’s wrist. “Look at him, Harry, cut it out.”

“Yeah,” Harry snipes back from the water. “Like I’m the only one doing it. It’s radiating off you, too.”

“What?” Niall murmurs but it comes up weak, too quiet under the roar of water in Niall’s ears. Zayn’s grip tightens on Niall’s wrist and it feels nice, hand hot against his skin.

Zayn makes a noise. “I don’t mean it. I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“Niall,” Louis murmurs from beside his shoulder but his voice sounds far away. Niall’s focus is slipping, taking in Liam behind him and Louis’ hand on his shoulder. Harry’s saying something again but the world tilts for a moment, sky going sideways in a blur of purple before Niall’s vision goes black. 

 

When Niall wakes up, he doesn't know where he is. The sheets are familiarly soft under his cheeks and the covers warm where they're twisted around his body but he doesn't recognise the ceiling or the double bed he’s lying in that’s taking up nearly the width of the room.

When he blinks and takes a breath, wiping sleep from his eyes he knows he's still inside the boat, the tell tale rocking making his queasy stomach flare up. The rest of the room is a mess, a jumper hanging over the back of the door and more clothes strewn over the small floor space not taken up by the bed. There's a table and it's covered, stacked with ratty books and dog eared comics, more clothes and a clutter of phone chargers plugged into the plug board near the wall. There’s more photos blue tacked up and Niall catches the familiar faces of the other boys in them. 

He rolls over, curling up on his side. He knows it’ll be cold outside and he wants a minute to straighten out his head but the longer he lies there, the more he realises that Harry and Zayn turning into fish was not just part of his dream. He blinks, eyes focusing again on a photo of the four of them, tucked together in the middle of the photo. They grin at him, immobile and static and altogether completely human. 

They don’t stay like that when Niall closes his eyes again, the way Zayn’s skin tinged green and the shimmery blues of Harry’s tail emblazoned on his eyelids.

There’s a tentative knock on the door and Niall snaps his eyes open again, the world tilted on it’s side as he takes in Louis’ figure. 

“Hi,” he chirps, leaning up against the doorframe. 

Niall rolls onto his back. Louis doesn’t move. Niall isn’t sure what he would do if he did. The room rocks, the boat hitting another high wave and it only serves as a reminder to Niall of where they are. 

“I want to go home,” Niall mutters, voice groggy and thick. From the corner of his eye he can see Louis nod, eyebrows knitting down into a frown. He can’t explain it but Niall has a sudden need to set a foot on steady, dry land.

“We thought you might,” he says quietly and Niall can hear the sadness in his voice. It makes him want to look at him properly, eyes dragging away from the light fixture on the ceiling to see him, looking soft in a pair of pyjama bottoms and with his hair flopping down over his forehead. He’s not sure what time it is, the window shuttered up like the other bedroom, or how long he’s been out, but Louis doesn’t look like he’s been to bed yet so it must be late. 

“Liam turned us around as soon as you passed out,” Louis tells him quietly. He steps away from the door then, walking slowly to the bed. Niall’s limbs lock up for a second, muscles seizing in panic before he takes a breath and forces himself to relax. Louis hadn’t changed earlier and he knows he shouldn’t be scared of him. He shouldn’t be scared of any of them.

“We should be home soon,” Louis says and drops down onto the bed. He knees across the mattress for a moment and Niall’s locking up again, back going rigid. Louis blinks at him, hesitating before sitting back on his heels. Niall offers him a weak smile before he rolls until he’s sitting. His head swims and it stings when he lifts his hand to it, fingertips skimming across his hair line to feel where it’s sore. 

“You hit your head -” Louis says, eyes narrowing at him from across the bed. Niall nods and drops his hand away from the cut, it feels too tender to poke at without a mirror or something. “You’re ok, do you not remember Liam trying to check you out?” 

Niall shakes his head, the last thing he remembers is the storm. He shuts his eyes, shimmering blue and green against the back of his eyelids. 

“Did I maybe hit it before Harry nearly grew a tail?” Niall mutters and blinks his eyes open in time to catch Louis’ grimace. 

“Fraid not,” he answers. There’s a smile twisting at the corner of his mouth though

Niall nods slowly. Noo, he hadn’t thought so. 

“Dinner? Or I suppose it’s like a second breakfast?” Louis asks, smile coming at full force now. “I think we can rustle up some bacon and tea.”

Niall nods again, the back of his neck aching, and he stands up, swaying on his feet for a moment. There’s clothes and shoes lying all over the floor at the side of the bed, none of them his, but Niall shoves his toes into a pair of Converse that look about his size.

“I don’t know if you want to talk about it,” Louis says quietly, catching his hand before they leave the bedroom. Niall freezes, he isn’t sure, still too shocked to really think it over yet. Louis reads his face and nods quickly. “Ok,” he whispers. “But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you finally know.”

Niall takes a deep breath but doesn’t answer, following Louis out into the corridor instead. 

The boat lurches again and Niall presses his palm against the wall. It’s cool, the steel feeling familiar as they move up the corridor and towards the kitchen.

There’s movement at the end of the hallway and Niall looks up in time to see Harry pause at the doorway to the wheel house. He’s wrapped in his blanket again, tight around his legs. Niall keeps his eyes on Harry long enough to take in the shape of his ankles before he pushes on down the corridor, hand against the wall because he’s too tired to keep balance himself, and into the kitchen. Louis doesn’t say anything and Niall’s not sure if he’s happy or sad that Harry didn’t follow them. 

Louis’ tea is sweet and milky and it settles heavy in his stomach along with the toast he manages. He forces it into his mouth even though he’s not hungry and Louis watches him the whole time, red sauce spotted at the corner of his mouth. 

Niall wants to reach across and wipe it off him but he feels frozen, arms locked into place at his sides, only budging enough to bring his mug to his mouth. 

“Could probably do with something stronger,” a voice says from the doorway and when Niall looks up he sees Zayn’s head poke into the room. 

He looks sheepish but waits until Niall nods for him to come closer. He has a bottle of brandy in his fist and he sets it on the middle of the table before he steps back, not even attempting to sit down on the bench surrounding the table.

Niall appreciates it, somewhere in the back of his brain, where he isn’t too busy freaking out. 

“Brandy doesn’t normally last this long,” Louis admits and he sounds somewhat impressed. “You’ve been holding out on me, Zayner.”

Zayn flashes him a thin smile as Louis tips a fingerful into his mug and then a glug into Niall’s. Niall takes a sip, eyes watering in an attempt not to cough as it burns down his throat. 

“I thought.” Zayn takes a deep breath. “I thought I should probably explain a few things.”

“It might -” Louis interrupts. “It might not be a good time.”

Niall shrugs. He wants to know what’s going on but he isn’t sure it will do much good, everything is too much of a jumble in his head to really process. 

“I -” Zayn starts and chokes a bit on his breath. He looks frustrated and upset. Louis shuffles up on his seat, letting Zayn squeeze into it beside him. Niall pretends to take no notice of how he grips at Louis’ hand. “I am - I -” He pauses again, face scrunching up. “I don’t really know how to explain this. Harry did all the talking last time.”

“Excellent start,” Niall mutters and then zips his mouth shut because he doesn’t want to mean and he’s too tired to find his brain-to-mouth filter. Zayn looks at him for a long moment, eyes wide, Louis too, before Niall speaks again.

“You’re a mermaid?” Niall asks and Zayn’s mouth turns up at the corners. 

“A Merrow,” he corrects and his shoulders relax as he lets out a breath. He laughs to himself. “But basically, yes.”

“You live under the sea and have a fishtail,” Niall says and it sounds clinical coming out of his mouth, detached like he’s speaking on autopilot. 

Louis cringes a bit and Niall sees his fingers squeeze around Zayn’s. He wants those fingers around his and finds it unfair that he doesn’t get a hand to hold during this. He wraps an arm around his chest instead and Zayn’s face falls at the sight of the defensive manoeuvre. 

“I have legs when I’m up here. That’s why I don’t go into the water or off onto the land. On the boat I stay how I am now. I want to stay like this so I don’t go anywhere.” Zayn takes a deep breath and his tone goes soft. “Harry does too. We’re still the same people as before.”

“Just with added fins and scales,” Louis adds in. Niall sucks in a breath and when he closes his eyes he can see Harry down in the water again, skin turning scaley and pallid and slimey. 

“Louis,” Zayn groans and when he opens his eyes again Zayn’s staring back at him with big, brown eyes, pupil black and beady and for a shocking moment he’s reminded of a fish eye. Of how they stare emptily up at him when he’s tipping out the net and how Harry shoves his hook through them to gut it, heads flinging off onto the deck with a splatter. 

“I’m sorry,” Niall chokes a bit. He can hear the roar in his ears again, the hum of the boat sounding more and more like Harry’s lullaby even though it’s impossible. “I can’t - not right now - I just -”

“It’s ok,” Zayn reassures him and he’s already on his feet, tugging Louis up with him too. “I don’t want to make it worse.” 

Niall nods, throat growing tight again and he pulls his hand around his chest tighter, fingers twisting into the cotton of his shirt. They both look devastated in front of him and the sight sort of makes him want to laugh because they _knew_. There’s nothing they have to come to terms with like Niall has. 

“Anytime,” Zayn says. “I’ll answer anything you want.”

Niall nods, not trusting himself to speak as they disappear out of the room.

It takes them half the time to reach home. Niall sits outside, swaying in the gentle breeze. It’s nearly morning, just on the break of dawn. He waits until the faint glow of the horizon gets bigger, blinking and blinking until he’s sure that the haze of lights and streetlamps isn’t part of his imagination. 

He settles then, something calming in his water when he realises he’ll soon be off the boat. He hadn’t realised how tense he’d been since he’d woken up, the breakfast-dinner Louis had made for him settling heavy in his stomach as he mulled it all over. 

Liam smiles thinly at him when he enters the cabin but Niall can’t find the energy to smile back. He wonders if they were all that far out to sea to begin with. Harry’s still curled in the corner and Niall tries not to look at him long enough to see if he’s awake or not. 

“Nearly there,” Niall comments and Liam nods, has the grace to look sheepish about it. The radio crackles behind him, loud in the quiet before he speaks.

“An hour maybe,” he says and his eyes track Niall’s movement across the room. He’s nearly at the door when the familiar tune of _Sailing By_ starts. Harry moves then, abruptly untangling himself from the blanket as he comes to stand in front of Niall. 

Niall can’t ignore him now, not with his eyes boring into him. He’s only a few inches taller but he blocks the way and Niall feels his breath catch, eyes latching onto him and drinking him in. 

He lifts a hand, offering it to him and Niall knows he wants to pull him into a dance. It pings at his heart, a reminder of his first night on the boat and how they had stumbled around the kitchen, Niall not having a clue what was going on but encouraged by their happy humming and tipsy giggling. 

The atmosphere couldn’t be more different now, Harry’s face grim, the dark patches under his eyes looking more sunken. Niall’s eyes flick to Harry’s hand and takes in the tremble of it, the way it wavers up at shoulder height. 

“I -” Niall starts, words lodging in his throat and Harry’s face crumbles. 

“Niall, I -” he murmurs but Niall can’t hear it. When he blinks, all he sees is the flicker of silver scales, and he can nearly hear it now, in between the rolls of violins on the radio, the low song that had wanted to lure him into the water. 

“I’m gonna sleep,” Niall says, lowering his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the disappointment in Harry’s eyes. He takes a definite step to the side as the song comes to an end, the tune turning hopeful before it ends. Liam shifts beside them, having been frozen still while watching their exchange but now he has to scribble down the early forecast, even though they’re nearly at port. 

Harry wilts, Niall can see the slump of his shoulders in his periphery. It makes him feel guilty and it only adds to the confusion in his head. He forces his mouth to move. “Wake me up when we get to land.” 

He doesn’t wait for a response, just makes his way down the corridor before they can speak. He doesn‘t think he’ll actually sleep much, his head feels too busy. 

He pauses at the doors to the bedrooms. He could easily turn left and crawl into the bed there, snuggle down with the rest of the boys and he knows they’d let him, prefer it probably, but he can’t bring himself to do it. 

His bunk is cold, sheets slipping over his skin and blankets scratchy. It smells of the sea, dank and fishy. But there’s something lingering sweet underneath, citrusy and sharp. 

Niall closes his eyes, trying to quiet his head down but his bed feels too big. Too empty without someone else in beside him and he realises with a jolt that he hasn’t slept alone since his first night on the boat. 

He turns onto his side and stares at the peeling wall of the cabin, wishing for the lull of the boat to send him under. 

He can’t work it out in his head, how they exist. How Harry has a tail and Zayn probably has one too. Louis’ words keep circling round in his head, _technically we’re human too,_ **_technically_**. He can’t imagine Louis with scales or webbing but then what’s the technically in that? 

He swallows at the sound of footsteps and rolls onto his side, staying still as the door creeps open over his shoulder. He can see the square of light on the wall and the top of the shadow from a head, looming larger on the wall in front of him. 

“Night, Niall,” Harry whispers into the dark and then he retreats as quick as he appeared, door closing with a tight snick.

*

Liam hugs him tight when they dock, the stern of the boat knocking against the pier. Niall lets him, allowing himself to sink into Liam’s chest and shut his eyes. Louis claps his hand on his shoulder, fingers digging in in a pleasant burn of pressure. 

“See you later,” he whispers into his ear, breath warm against his skin. It sounds like a promise, like Niall will really be seeing him soon. 

“Yeah.” Niall answers him half heartedly; he isn’t sure he’ll be running back to them all too soon. 

Zayn gives him a tight smile, walking him to the edge of the boat. He doesn’t climb off, just offers his hand to help Niall as he clambers over the edge. His fingers are cool when Niall takes them.

“You don’t have to leave,” Harry says quietly, suddenly appearing behind him, jumping easily off the boat and onto the dock beside him. Niall can barely look at him, heart twisting when he catches the downturn of his mouth and the crease between his eyebrows. “We can pretend you never found out.” 

Niall shakes his head and Harry shrinks an inch, shoulders rounding into himself. 

“I never meant it to be this way,” he mumbles, bottom lip worried between his teeth. “I just thought you’d fit with us really well and it was the only way I could think of to make sure you’d stay.”

He looks so honest, eyes big and imploring. Niall has to look away in case he’d be convinced to stay. 

“I know,” Niall says. “I just need -”

He’s not sure what he needs: space or time or a think. He can’t say what it is anyway, just in case Harry takes it as a flicker of hope he’ll come back. 

“Yeah,” Harry mutters and picks at a thread of his jeans. “I know, I get it. It’s everyone else who doesn’t.” 

Niall frowns but steps backwards on the pier, setting another foot of difference between them. Over Harry’s head he can see the other three at the railing of the boat, Liam and Louis on either side of Zayn, all of them looking sad and pathetic. 

There’s a tug, somewhere low in his belly, that’s pulling him back to the boat, back to them but he ignores it, pulling it taut as he turns his back on them and takes another step forward.

His dad doesn’t say anything when he turns up at the house just in time for breakfast. His brother laughs at him for only lasting a fortnight away and Niall has to take a breath because it seemed so much longer out there, like he had fit months of work and laughter and the beginnings of a relationship into two short weeks. 

Being at home isn’t the relief he thought it would be. His bed seems cold and empty, with neither Harry nor Louis keeping him company. He goes straight to it without keeping a watch, eyes flicking over the ceiling because he can’t sleep now without the rock of the boat lulling him over. 

He finds himself rolling over to see the time at 0048 and it’s like he’s trained now to flick on the radio and listen to the monotone over the speaker. There’s no crackle here at home, the frequency undistorted and he hears all about the drizzle and gales out in Malin, Shannon and the Irish Sea. He knows the others are listening too, they have to be if they’ve headed back out to sea, and he doesn’t know if it makes him feel more close to them, knowing that one of them are listening to it too, dancing along to the outdated tune, or more alone. 

He finds himself down at the bottom of the garden on the days where the weather is bright and dry. The river trickles along there, hidden down the bank of overgrown grass but it’s deep enough for Niall to stick his feet in. 

It makes him feel better, water lapping around his ankles but he puts it down to the rhythm of it and the drag of the tide against his skin.

He’s there one afternoon, a few days after his escape from the boat when someone blocks out the sun by standing above him.

“What are you doing here?” Niall asks when he opens his eyes, voice rough from lying all day in the long grass. 

Zayn pulls a face and slumps down into the grass beside him. 

“Louis’ making tea in your kitchen, he’ll probably be out to annoy you soon too,” Zayn says and curls his legs up so they’re tucked under him. Zayn’s lips turn up into a smile. “Liam’s talking to your dad.”

“Oh god,” Niall snorts and picks at a piece of grass. He wants to turn and face Zayn but this way he gets to keep his feet in the water, lapping silently at his ankles and he doesn’t have to meet Zayn’s eyes. “How come -” Niall starts after a moment of silence. A bird chirps somewhere and it sounds sweet after the natter of gulls. “How come you’re off the boat?” 

He hears Zayn intake of breath, sharp and long and steadying. Niall glances up and Zayn’s staring at him, gaze piercing. 

“I wanted to talk to you,” Zayn tells him and picks up his own tuft of grass. 

“Won’t you, like, turn into a beached whale or something?” Niall asks and Zayn pulls a face. Niall wonders if he’s caused offence but he supposes it’s better to get out his bitter snarkiness first. He’s been going over and over the same thing for the past few days and it’s built up a reservoir of snark in his belly.

“I wanted to show you how much you mean to me,” Zayn says quietly and the breath drains out of Niall’s chest. He turns his head and Zayn’s staring back up at him again. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve touched the grass?” 

Niall looks down and he’s got fistfulls of it now clenched in his fingers. 

Zayn laughs and pulls it out of the ground. “I haven’t stepped on land in so long. I’ve been too scared to, afraid that I’d be called back to under the sea and I wouldn’t be able to spend all my days with those three idiots.”

He cocks his head to the side and when Niall glances to the side he can see Liam and Louis, loitering by the back door to his house. Louis has a mug in his hand and they’re both looking over at them quietly but they don’t come closer. Niall lifts his hand in a silent wave.

“So why are you here then?” Niall asks quietly, turning back to him. Niall’s shoulders fall and it’s stringing him up tight, like there’s something pulling at his bones. He picks at the grass again, a daisy trying valiantly to grow through a tuft of dandelions. 

“You know when I said there was something missing?” Zayn asks him, face turning up to catch the barely there sun. Niall stares at him and thinks back to that quiet first night on the boat. Zayn had sat with him, breathing quietly through the night. “That first night on the boat? That with all of us together, there was still somehow something not there?” 

“Yeah,” Niall says quietly. 

“I don’t think I really noticed until you left again,” Zayn mumbles and Niall’s finding it hard to follow. He’s turned towards him now, he can’t help it. His right foot still dangling down the bank and skimming into the water but he pulls the other one up in front of him and Zayn rubs the pad of his thumb over his ankle, tracing the dips and knobs of it. It feels nice, something rooting him to the conversaton. “That it hadn’t been there when you were there, that you filled us out, fitted into all our gaps and made us,” he pauses, mouth turning into a grin. “You made us whole.” 

Niall wriggles his toes into Zayn’s leg. His chest feels tight so he focuses on the warm skin of Zayn’s knee. 

“So I’m here to tell you that.” Zayn’s bottom lip trembles a bit and Niall wants to reach out and smooth over it with his finger, feel the warm blood under the thin skin of his mouth. He wants to trace over it and kiss him and smell the sea off his skin. 

“I didn’t mean to freeze Harry out,” Niall whispers. It’s been playing on his mind more and more these past few days. He keeps remembering his hurt face, mouth tight and turned down when Niall had refused his hand to dance with him. He knew that it was Harry trying to make light of it, make him laugh so they could get over it. Maybe it was his way of showing that he was still the same old Harry, even if he had a tail now and again. 

Zayn pulls a face. “He’s upset.” Zayn pauses and glances up at Niall from under his eyelashes. “But I think he just wants you back. He misses you.”

Niall takes a deep breath. 

“We all do,” Zayn says quietly and he’s ducked down again, eyes on the torn knee of his jeans. 

“I just needed a bit of time,” Niall mumbles and picks at the grass beside them. The sun is going down and it’s just low enough to catch Niall’s eye so he has to squint. 

“You don’t anymore?” Zayn asks, peeking up to chance a look at Niall again. Niall feels his cheeks heat up. 

“I can maybe do my thinking as I go,” Niall admits and then laughs at Zayn’s blank expression. “Could think about it with all of you guys. Together.”

“Oh,” Zayn says and his smile grows as his face relaxes. He laughs at himself, nose scrunching up before he carefully reaches into his pocket. “Well, that’s good, because I also came to give you these.” 

Niall sucks in a breath. He’s been coming round to the fact that Harry and Zayn might not be completely human but he’s starting to get that there’s a bit more to the story. 

Zayn pulls out a bundle of material from the inside pocket, setting it carefully into the flat patch of grass between them. Niall stares at it, the faded red and bright crimson stark against the green. 

“What are they?” he asks. He knows instantly that they must be important. Zayn’s fingers are shaking and he wrings his hands for a moment before tucking them out of the way and under his thighs. 

“I found my cap,” he whispers and Niall reaches out to touch them carefully. “Go on,” Zayn murmurs when Niall hesitates at touching it.

“What?” Niall asks again and Zayn’s face breaks into a laugh. 

“This was so much more easier to explain to Liam, he knew half of this already. It’s a cap, like a hat me and Harry have to wear to dive under the sea.”

Niall nods, thinking back to his image of Gemma in his head and the long velvety train she had worn. 

There’s four of them in front of him now; a soft, dark beanie. It’s made of soft wool and it reminds Niall of thick jumpers and mugs of tea. There’s a hole in it, a gap in the thick weaves of wool and Niall can wriggle his thumb into it. 

“Don’t let Louis see you do that,” Zayn mutters and Niall looks up to catch his smile. It’s not as wide as it usually is, softly turned up at the edges. “He didn’t want to be left out so he volunteered his favourite beanie.”

Niall smiles even though he’s not quite sure what it’s been volunteered for. He picks up another one, it’s not as red, more a maroon colour. It’s darker than the rest but more well kept, the knit still tight and clean. 

“And he volunteered Liam’s beanie too,” Zayn laughs. 

Niall grins. “And was Liam ok with that?” 

Zayn laughs. “What do you think?” 

Niall snorts and sorts through the rest of the material in the bundle. The other two are much redder, a crisp scarlet against the other two. Niall skims his fingers over one of them, folded up neatly, creased edges. It’s soft, like velvet and Niall wants to sink his fingers into it, maybe run the ridge of his nose over it. 

“Harry’s,” Zayn answers before Niall can ask. Niall glances up and Zayn’s expression is turning serious. “I think Liam’s mum ironed it. He had left it there for safe keeping. Not lost, but not hidden either.”

Niall’s face must show his confusion because Zayn smiles gently. 

“When we want to stay on the land we give them to the person we love to hide. It means we can stay on land for as long as we want.” He tells him slowly and Niall tries to pay attention, hands slipping over the soft material. “Your partner is supposed to hide it, so you can stay on land forever but it has to be hidden really well because if I find it, I’m forced back to the ocean as if I don’t remember my life on land anymore.”

Niall’s hands freeze. 

“But you found yours,” he checks and Zayn nods towards the last hat.

Niall can tell it was once as bright as Harry’s. It’s muted now, a little dusty and it unravels in his hands when he picks it up, not as soft under his fingertips. 

Zayn takes in a deep breath. His hands tremble and it nearly looks like he’s shivering. Niall clutches the material tighter, letting it slip through his fingers before he clenches it carefully between his palms. 

“Mine was never hidden -” he cuts off with a flat chuckle. “Yeah, I’m not exactly sure how it works. I don’t like to tempt fate though, so I never strayed too far from the boat.”

Niall nods, staring at the material until when he blinks all he can see is red. 

“I -” Zayn starts but pauses again. Niall looks up, watching his face screw up before it eases back out again, smoothing around his eyes and forehead. “I knew it wasn’t completely lost,” he admits and then smiles. “Found it in a cupboard on the boat. Tore the place apart after you left.” 

Niall smiles along with him, thumbing over the faded silken material. 

“We’re giving you them,” Zayn mumbles and there’s pink creeping up his neck, like he’s having trouble getting the next bit out. “Giving them to you to hide.”

Niall lets that sink in. He knows that this is a big deal and he can feel the enormity of it crushing at his shoulders but when he looks up at Zayn again he can see his smile, crinkling at the side of his eyes. He can feel Louis and Liam off to the side of them, too far down the garden to hear their conversation but he knows they’re there. Even the water lapping at his ankles makes him feel warm, a soothing lull around his foot. 

“And if I hide them,” Niall says slowly. “I hide them so you never find them and -”

He cuts off, breath getting tight as he thinks about it. 

Zayn’s hand slips from out below his leg. He holds it open, palm up and knuckles against the material of his cap. 

“And we don’t have to worry about going back,” Zayn mutters. Niall’s shoulders sag and he reaches out, grabbing Zayn’s hand. Zayn intertwines their fingers and Niall grins at him, shuffling closer so he can tip his head forward. Zayn bends in close too and it feels nice, the warmth of his body pressed close.

“Will you try it on for me?” Niall asks quietly, breath coming out in a rush. Zayn snorts and backs away, shoulders shaking with laughter. 

“No way.” He shakes his head and Niall frowns. 

“Come on,” he cajoles. “Red is totally your colour!” 

Zayn laughs, the skin on his nose wrinkling. He slides his fingers across the edge of his hat before pulling it on with a sigh. It’s long and floaty, a foot of lush crimson material that drapes down over his shoulders. 

It might just be the light, nearly reaching dusk, but his skin looks nearly green, an emerald sheen that disappears down the neck of his jumper. 

“It looks good,” Niall breathes, words not doing it justice. He looks regal, dignified and suddenly Niall realises that this is the image he can think of, not of Zayn’s face twisting and dark, beady eyes. Zayn smiles again, strong and something new sliding across his expression, fantastically powerful just before Niall blinks and it’s gone. 

“Does this mean you can go into the water now?” Niall asks, voice gone breathless. He reaches forward to finger at the corner of Zayn’s cape and thinks of how Harry had gone into the water easily back on the boat. 

Zayn’s eyes shutter for a moment, closing before he meets Niall’s curious expression. 

“I’m not sure,” Zayn admits. “I never know how this really works, Harry’s always just gone for it while I’ve been a bit more reserved.” He pauses, eyes skittering over Niall’s face before he reaches down and pulls off his boot. “Liam’ll kill me if this goes wrong.”

“It won’t,” Liam answers and Niall jumps, stomach sucking up into his throat before he realises that Liam and Louis have worked their way up the garden, shoes already off. Liam reaches out and touches his hand to Niall’s shoulder and Niall can’t help leaning back into it.

Zayn holds Niall’s gaze before he slides his feet into the water alongside his own, ankles disappearing into the water. It’s moving quickly today, rippling and rolling down the stream and disappearing around the corner where the river speeds up naturally. 

Niall watches intently, the water swirling around Zayn’s feet and each time he blinks they look different, changing colour under the course of the river.

Louis drops down on the other side of Niall and then Liam beside him, keeping close as they stick their feet into the stream. They don’t do anything but they don’t look bothered, toes remaining strictly toes, like Niall’s.

“It’s been so long,” Zayn mutters as he cocks his head to the side, watching as his feet turn purple and blue and green. He pulls one out, bending his knee so he can let Niall see. He hesitates a moment, biting at his lip before he pushes his foot into Niall’s lap, heel brushing against the wool of Louis’ beanie that Niall’s still threading his fingers through. 

It looks beautiful; strokes of colour that sweep up over Zayn’s ankle before disappearing into his trouser leg, glittering golds and shining sapphire. Niall skims his thumb over the arch of his foot. He had expected it to feel like scales but his skin is soft, smooth and stretched over the bones of his foot. Between his toes is light, white webbing starting to knit his toes together. It’s pretty though, silver and translucent.

“Harry will be disappointed,” Niall mutters, fingertips pressing into the dip of Zayn’s ankle. “That he’s missing this.”

“He knows,” Liam murmurs beside his shoulder. “Why do you think the river is running so fast?” 

Niall glances back at the water and the bubbles of it as it speeds past them. He’s never seen it this fast and it reminds him of the pier and the tide at the dock. Louis settles his head against Niall’s shoulder, kicking his feet in the water, his staying reassuringly skin coloured under the ripples and it makes Niall want to laugh.

So he does, loud and bright. Zayn joins in, grin spreading up across his face and Niall tips his head back, eyelids glowing red when he closes them against the sun.

Later, when the three of them have went back to the boat, Niall bundles the hats together. He thinks about washing Zayn’s, getting rid of the dust and grime of the boat but he doesn’t want to mess with the magic of it. It seems a bit harsh shoving it in the washing machine with his dirty pants. Harry’s seems fine, ironed out by Liam’s mum but Niall’s rubbish at ironing and he doesn’t want to risk burning a hole through it either. 

Instead, he folds them all together, layering them on top of each other until it’s a neat pile of red. He’s half way out of his bedroom door when he backtracks, the flicker of red in the corner of his eye drawing him to his messy collection of snapbacks on the shelf. He picks up the one with the most red, bright crimson trim and lettering before piling the rest of the material into the headspace. It doesn’t all quite fit but it shouldn’t matter.

His dad is making dinner when he slips out the back door, the sun still sending enough light across the sky that Niall can pick his way down the garden to the stream. 

He wades across it easily, the water calmer than this afternoon. It soaks into the knees of his jeans and he realises that the pounding in his chest feels good, an excitement that soon he’ll be getting back to boat, where he belongs.

It starts to rain while he’s digging, the soil going wet under his shovel but it doesn’t take him long to dig a hole deep enough to hide the hats. 

It feels very final dropping them into the pit and he takes a moment, water rolling down his cheeks and chin to think about it before letting them go, landing them in a heap before piling the soil on top. 

He’s hiding them, hiding his four - Niall isn’t sure how to refer to them. Are they his boyfriends if two of them are half fish? He snorts to himself, dropping onto his knees to pat the soil down. He decides they are his boyfriends when he’s knuckle deep in soil. He’s still mostly confused and he has a million questions to ask them still but he wants to find them out around the tiny dinner table on the boat, wants Harry to tell him tales while they knot the ropes for the nets or while he and Liam wait for the shipping forecast to come on. He wants to find out how Louis ended up on the boat when he’s curled around him in bed and stay up late with Zayn to keep watch.

There’s a half slab of concrete near by too, left over from when his dad paved the front driveway and he shifts it, sweat dampening the back of his neck, until the hole is completely covered. 

His dad smiles at him when he comes in, pats his shoulder like he had last time and sat him down at the dinner table. It doesn’t feel like a last supper, his brother prattling on about a girl from work that he’s taking a fancy to and his dad pushing him to eat another potato but he catches his dad eye when he starts to clean up and it makes him falter, fingers gripped tight around his plate. 

“It’ll be longer than two weeks this time?” His dad asks him as they load the dishwasher and Niall nods, knows it’ll be a lot longer than two weeks this time. He dad just smiles.

It’s dark by the time he makes it to the pier and it reminds him of the first time he was here, the same nerves building in his gut. 

He climbs over the side of the boat easily, hands finding the right spots and his feet pushing him up over the edge. The boat knocks against the dock, a gentle rock on the push of the tide. There’s a light on somewhere in the cabin, a soft glow through the gritty windows. 

Harry meets him at the bottom of the stairs and Niall doesn’t even know how he knew he was here already. He doesn’t say anything, eyes wide and nearly disbelieving before he gives him a watery smile. He moves to pull him into a hug, leaving room for Louis to fit in beside him. Zayn’s hand slips around his waist, face burrowing into the side of Niall’s neck and finally, Liam slots into the space below his chin, lips pressed to his Adam’s apple. 

There’s a ruffle of a breeze, thick and quick through his hair. The back of his coat lifts and a flag somewhere flaps loudly but the arms around him keep him warm, anchored between them and Niall’s sure that his adventure is just beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find a typical shipping forecast [ here ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oguCxlZ94Ho). It's a bit of an institution on the BBC and oddly soothing.
> 
> Some snippits of the background Celtic Mythology on [ Merrow ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Merrow), and even though they were only mentioned - [ St. Brendan ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brendan#The_Voyage_of_Saint_Brendan) and [ Immram tales. ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Immram)
> 
> If anyone has any questions I will be happy to answer them and constructive criticism is always welcome :)


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